


we made it I guess

by FandomTrash



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, JUST, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Past Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Post-Titan War(s), Problems, Sad, Sleepy Boys, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Tartarus Is A Bitch, Ugh, did i say that yet, everybody just kinda wants to die, everybody's dead inside, everybody's tired, great, i hate this, it gets better chill, literally most sad tags belong on this thing and it's only 10k words, there you go, this is a good start, yes there'll be an ending too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-19 05:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash/pseuds/FandomTrash
Summary: In retrospect, maybe it was a little obvious.But Percy's never been an observant guy.Before him stands a livid Nico di Angelo. Panting, trembling; mouth parted and eyes tired. Defeated, in a sense. It's not a common look on Nico, not that Percy had ever seen, and it's heartbreaking to witness. But Percy's always known Nico to make anything look pretty.Though, the worst thing, Percy thinks, is howhurthe looks. Somehow it's worse than telling a scared, ten year old little boy that his sister wouldn't be coming back. It's worse than the empty stares Percy got long after. This is a new level ofrawthat he will never be able to match sincerely. And maybe that's what makes it even more painful. Percy will never be Nico.It makes him choke back a guttural cry.





	1. claw machine

Nico came back when camp was at a standstill. The breakup of the infamous Golden Couple had ruptured a lot of the campers, because if _the_ Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase couldn't keep up a stable relationship, then what is there destined for them? Nothing is permanent, everything is temporary and fast moving. Nothing lasts forever, that was the message that people took in, nothing lasts forever and the end is quick approaching.

So, when Nico arrived on scene, first impressions weren't great. One of the rightful heroes of Olympus, heir to a stygian iron throne, king of ghosts and a child of the Big Three. All people had for him was wary glances and the shuffle of feet when he got too close. Percy probably took it more personally than Nico did. His friend didn't deserve to be shunned like that, still doesn't, not after all he's done. But the campers were forever on their toes around him and the uneasy murmurs shattered the silence of Camp Half-Blood.

Never, not ever, had Percy ever understood what _fear_ was until he had crawled out of hell. Now, it's easy to see. In the eyes of young, unclaimed campers that see the ruins and think _huh, this is all there is?_ It's so obvious, in how strong warriors – what remains, the survivors, the just-turned-fifteen-year-olds-if-that – have turned frail and the wounds may have healed but they are still so apparent.

Percy doesn't like his newly opened eyes.

Jason said that it sucked, sure, but it helped. Being aware and acutely perceptive always had it's perks, that's what the mighty son of Jupiter had said, but he didn't know true horror if it stared him in the face. Percy knows Jason thinks he has, thinks he has understood the overwhelming sensation of _loss_ , but he hasn't. He hasn't, and that's the difference between the Greek and Roman sons of the Big Three. An unsettling rift that forever shifts.

But he confides in Jason because Annabeth is no longer an option. Plus, in a private confession of honesty, Percy doesn't really know who to trust anymore. His mother, of course, but other than her? A very select few. Three at most: one is Roman, the other two are Greek and far, far out of his reach. One metaphorically and the other literally. It won't take an Athenian to figure out who is who.

Yet Jason still shrugs, running a hand through his hair. It's still that startling blond, but grown out since his last haircut. Scruffy is the word. Percy smirks at the obvious irritation it brings the Roman. Uptight, clean-cut and uniform Romans. They must come out cookie-cutter shaped.

Their arrival to the pavilion grants them chirpy shouts of 'good morning' and other welcoming greetings. Heroes of Olympus, the pair of them; sons of Jupiter and Poseidon. Shining knights receiving thanks for their duties. Promoted from one level of popularity to another. Golden Boy Grace, Kelp Head Percy to whatever else. Heroes. Saviors. Valiant fighters, the reason they are all still alive. It makes something curdle in his stomach like sour milk. There's somebody missing. He knows there is, and it's only when he watches the subtle shift of unease in the air that he figures out who.

Nico di Angelo.

Not part of the original seven, but still a hero in his own right. So many sacrifices made for the greater good – his mother, his sister, and from the very beginning, his father. Son of death, son of wealth, son of darkness.

Everybody's afraid of something, and for a lot of people, it is the absence of life. So, understandably, Nico is like a beacon of loss. A walking tragedy waiting to happen, a calamity, a catastrophe. Black cats bring bad luck. Percy can only imagine how that feels. To be a totem of hate.

Jason lies to Nico, tells the poor kid that they all love him, really, he's just delusional, he's just making things up in his head because it's what he's used to. An internalized phobia. Jason's never been good at lying. Percy hates to side with Nico on such a topic, but the kid is right; these people are afraid of him. Terrified, even, as if he is the true thing to be feared and not the things down under. The horrors that bundle themselves within the son of Hades' body amount to nothing from below bedrock and hell's foundations.

Jason and Percy part to their own tables after begrudgingly dishing a portion of their food to the hearth. It's a mixture, he muses, the amount of people that are looking _at_ or _away_ from Doom and Gloom. The few that have enough guts to look at Nico quickly drop their gaze. The ones looking away in the first place are smart enough not to so much as blink in his direction. Percy smiles behind his blue-dye cola.

Classic Nico. _Fear me,_ a staple to his persona, and quite literally the calligraphy on the back of his leather jacket. His long strides cut through the pavilion to his table, where he sits before the enchanted crockery and smothers his yawn with his hand. Percy doesn't remember the last time the kid got a wink of sleep, let alone a full night. The same goes for himself. But being tired is better than waking up in cold sweats. The son of Hades must agree.

Jason cocks his head, like those confused birds, or the curious dogs. Cocks his head and knits his eyebrows; intense gaze reaching across many tables and heads to the very lonesome kid picking at scraps of fruit. Or nuts. It looks like trail-mix scattered on the plate. Percy can't tell from this far away. Chattering babble has never helped him focus, either. Too many interfering conversations, too many other aspects that he has to pay attention to nowadays. Life of a demigod: always on your toes.

He turns to look at Jason's table, so close to his, only a short distance between them. Then to Nico's table. An entire mess hall creating a pregnant gap between them. That sucks. Percy decides he'll consult with Chiron at some point, see if it's possible to rearrange the pavilion.

Glancing down at his plate, he realizes all his fries have been scarfed, what remained of his hamburger gone. Huh. He doesn't really remember being hungry, but Percy doesn't remember a lot of things half the time. Downing the rest of his blue-dyed cola, he stands and pretends that all the expectant eyes that snap to attention don't bother him. He doesn't deserve to be the center of attention. He's just an ordinary guy.

His feet carry him to Nico. Not surprising, considering they've been trying to build bridges since the water calmed. Nico – bloodshot, bruised eyes and despondency haunting him something chronic – barely blinks at Percy when he arrives. In the distance, Percy can see Chiron shift on his hooves with discontent. He'll have to deal with it, for now, as long as Percy doesn't try to take a seat at the Hades table.

“Morning.” Percy leans against the table. The boy nods, hand performing a halfhearted salute before dropping back onto the table limply. Must be exhausted.

Percy takes a seat at the Hades table. He stares directly into Chiron's eyes as he does so. Deadpan.

For prolonged moments, tension builds between them. However, no protest is made by the centaur.

The silence between them isn't so bad; it's quiet, quaint. A quality of quietude that Percy wouldn't have been able to appreciate with Annabeth. The only time she was quiet was when she was insinuating how obvious an answer was and how dense he was being. So, not the most gratifying thing in their relationship. Patronizing.

Nico huffs, crunching cashew nuts loudly. Percy has always been drawn to Nico's mouth, oddly enough. Now more than ever, but still. When he was younger, his teeth had been a little too big for his mouth; a gnashing jaws of sarky, acerbic tongue and snappish, aerated teeth. He didn't know how to use them, back then. Sometimes, Percy misses those days. His words were clumsy, blunt but bittersweet. A less biting tune to his words. Now, everything from his wolfish maw is sardonic and cynical.

“Aren't you hungry?” Pours from Percy's mouth, unhesitating and forthright like a turned faucet. Nico shrugs, popping a handful of almonds into his mouth, “Not really.” Then, after a moment, “Want some?” As kind and considerate the gesture is (Nico's getting better at that, you see,) Percy shrugs and scrunches his nose, “Don't like nuts too much.” More quiet. The son of Hades eyes glaze over as he falls back into his silent reverie.

“Thanks anyways, though.” Percy has to say _something_ , or else he'll lose Nico for the next ten minutes. The boy will blink, snap back and raise an eyebrow whilst looking lost at him. “The fuck are you doing here?” He'll ask, no recollection of the past few minutes.

So when Nico's gaze slips back to him, it's needless to say that he is relieved. “It's nothing, I guess,” Nico mutters, literally shrugging off the thanks. Percy smiles anyways, feeling fond, “It's something, bud.” Bud, like a friend. (not like a flower or anything, gods no, Nico is too prickly to be a flower. Maybe a cactus.)

Jason watches them from across the pavilion. It's easy for Percy to avoid his gaze with the campers dividing them. He doesn't know how he'd respond to Jason's inquisitive, interrogative squint. Probably with a helpless grimace.

He and Nico have never been a simple jigsaw puzzle. They've never fit together very easily.

That is not to say that what comes from the effort put into their friendship isn't worth it.

Because it is, in the end. That ever-so-slightly softened smirk? The angular lift of his eyebrow that isn't quite accusatory as it is playful mirth? Those red-rimmed eyes that look grounded for just a second? That's the prize, that's the end goal, that's what Percy lives for. The dimples that appear when Nico gives him a genuine smile, the way the tips of his ears turn pink when he throws his head back – that's what he strives for. It's like a claw machine and Percy's spent so many quarters (years) and they're all paying off. Nico is the prize. The favored plush from the ocean of stuffed toys. Nico was the only one he had ever wanted. And now, Percy's so close to dropping him into the prize box, so ready to pull him from the flap and squeeze him tight. So close to winning.

But he knows it only takes one slip to make things fall apart.

Claw machines are temperamental like that. So is Nico.

“Nothing comes from nothing, Perce –” And gods, that old nickname, if it doesn't have his knees buckling – “It's not possible.” It makes him smile, weirdly enough, as dour and sour the comment is. “Well, if there is nothing, there's gotta be something.” Carefully, lightly, he playfully punches Nico's shoulder. The boy rolls his eyes. “Right?” He's gotta be right, because there's no other option other than _wrong_ , and Nico knows that if Percy's wrong it will kill him.

So it's not a surprise when Nico nods. Then he hums thoughtfully, nodding his head in Jason's direction, “What's going on with him?” He looks, finding brilliantly blue eyes already heavy on his profile. “Jase? Oh, I dunno. Been edgy lately.” Another hum; politely interested, nothing more than a vague noise. Still, it's something. “I was thinking maybe we could all go hang out later? Y'know, if you're free.” The underworld is busier than ever right now. But if Nico's here, then things must have slowed down.

Percy's breath baits when his friend falls quiet, contemplating. He nods, eventually. “I'm free, so.” Elated, he grins, standing, “C'mon.” Nico's plate is empty. He looks a little bewildered, blinking up at Percy in surprise that makes him look cute in a coltish way, “O-oh. You -” He pauses; he stands awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “You meant right now.”

And this is what Percy lives for. The way Nico purses his lips, avoids his eyes and looks around bashfully as if everybody was within earshot to hear his slip up. Percy grins. “Yeah.” It's a soft sound, maybe a sigh, “If – if, y'know, you're still up for it.” Awkward jigsaw pieces. Knocking together clumsily, not quite a perfect fit, but close enough. He gets distracted by how Nico's hand moves to card through his hair. It fluffs up messily, curls around his ears. “Totally,” Nico mutters, “Yeah, I mean. Yeah, it's still good. I'm still good. We're still – it's all good.”

“Still good.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely...”

“Totally...”

In unison, “...Still up for it.”

(It's like all those stupid romcoms where it's all just so blatantly obvious. Really, Percy should've noticed sooner.) Nico nods, then he nods, and it's quiet. He can't help but crack a grin, landing a firm hand on Nico's shoulder and steering him in the direction of the Zeus table. Jason raises an eyebrow at them, but smiles, “Hey Nico.” Nico waves silently in way of greeting, nonplussed and facade-ified.

Jason stands up, bumping his shoulders as he stands between them. A buffer. As if him and Percy will get into a screaming match, as if we'll attack each other, throw one or the other to the dirt. Percy wonders what makes Jason so protective like that. “We ready to go?” Percy nods. Nico frowns, “Where to?”

The blond shrugs, clapping a heavy hand on Nico's shoulder. It's surprising that the kid doesn't collapse under the weight of the statuesque Roman. (mighty, regal, demanding.) Then again, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Nico is his own pillar of strength. “To my cabin,” The Roman finally decides on, “We'll play some video games. Sound fun?” An open question. A last chance to say no, despite Nico always forcing an option onto the situation, whether it is given to him or not. Percy supposes that one needs to learn such a vital thing young.

Still, Nico shrugs, he runs a hand through wild hair with calloused fingers, “Sure.” He wonders if Nico knows what fun is. It differs for everyone, and Nico's never been open about his preferences. It makes him ponder about what the boy would do in his spare time.

“Mario Kart?” He asks, and Jason nods. “Bro, when is it anything else?” Percy scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That one time we played Call of Duty because Piper bet she could beat us.” She did, in the end. The blond huffs, “Aside from that.” Percy doesn't answer. The son of Hades looks a little lost, but doesn't ask. He looks pensive; stuck in his head.

All Percy can think is that Nico is slipping from the claw machine's grasp.

So, he does the most obvious thing he can think of: physical contact.

Skipping around Jason, he knocks into the younger boy gently, bumping their shoulders together, “You okay there, bud?” He blinks, looking (adorably) dazed. He nods. Percy cocks his head, because that technically wasn't an answer, and you need something verbal from Nico for it to be an actual confirmation, “You sure? You went quiet.” Jason hums, “When is he ever _not_ quiet?”

Percy's heart stutters when Nico scowls. It's an instant reminder that nothing is perfect. It's not even _okay_ between them, and that's a look Nico has shot him so many times. He chuckles belatedly, trying to soothe the look from Nico's face. It strikes an unnatural unease in his stomach. “Don't be mean, Jase.” To his surprise, Nico huffs, “Yeah, Jay. Don't be mean.” It brings bubbly laughter out of him; bewildered and uncomprehending.

Petulant isn't an adjective he ever thought Nico would be associated with. Turns out there's truly a first for everything. The kid looks like he's nearly pouting up at the Roman. It's an odd thing to look at. A more...mortal thing. But, even then, it'd probably still be out of place.

Nico: only just that little bit shorter than Jason, now, and in full Bad Boy mode – looking like a cat that just had its tail trod on – and Jason: immovable mound of muscle, the true Jock Stereotype – sticking his tongue out like a rotten little kid that was just given candy. It should be weird. Percy should be uncomfortable with the out-of-character interaction (he is, to an extent. Mainly because he wasn't aware Nico and Jason were so close – like, _when?_ ) but he's not. No, it's not uncomfortablness he's experiencing, it's something like...envy.

How come Jason is so close to Nico 'I don't need friends' di Angelo?

How come Percy _isn't?_ He's known the kid since he was ten!

It dampens his mood a little bit, but then Nico brushes arms with him and cocks his head. Apparently the moment is over. Good. Not that he doesn't want the poor kid to be happy or anything, but. It made something twist in his chest at the idea of having Nico fall into somebody else's hands. Inexperienced hands that don't know how to hold him quite right, don't understand the hardships he has faced, don't know how to -

Then again, Percy doesn't really know how to do any of those things, either. Well – he _does._ Kinda. Just not the entire 100% he wishes he knew. Say...75%, at least, and that's saying something. Percy is the most constant thing Nico has in his life, he's pretty sure of it. Why this little snippet matters, gods know.

“What's Mario Kart?” Nico asks. Jason stumbles in shock, throwing wide eyes in his direction. Percy just smiles, “A video game.” Nico huffs, “No shit.” The blond regains composure, sighing, “I forget you're from the thirties.” Shaking his head, Nico frowns, “That's got nothing to do with it.” Percy furrows his eyebrows, “Wha – oh.” Oh yeah. Jason, lost, raises an eyebrow in question. “I grew up in the Lotus Casino. Game consoles galore -” It's cute how he throws his hands around – “Just not many...games.”

Then Jason hums, “Man, growing up surrounded in video games sounds like a dream.” Nico huffs. Yet, he doesn't say anything. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continues walking towards the Zeus Cabin. Percy purses his lips, hanging back with Jason; he looks confused. “What...did I say something?” He nods, “Lotus Casino wasn't...it wasn't... _great_ , I guess. He doesn't talk about it much. Y'know, he had that whole memory-wipe going for him, all that.” The Roman winces, a hiss slipping past his teeth, “Ouch. I didn't mean to -” Percy nods, waving him off, “He'll be fine. Nico's a big boy.” Young adult, really, sixteen-going-on-seventeen. Whatever.

Jason remains pensive as they stop at his cabin. Nico hums, glancing between the door and the blond expectantly. He hops up the steps, Nico and Percy in tow. Gesturing extravagantly, he ushers the pair inside, “Welcome to my humble abode.” Percy makes himself at home on the only bed in the cabin, whilst Nico looks around. He's never been in the Zeus cabin before, come to think of it.

It's been refurnished recently; creepy statue booted out and a couple beds dragged in. Thalia's stuff rests on her bed, whatever's left of it. The cabin in general is well kept and neat – _cough_ Romans _cough_ – with Jason's side of the cabin more lived in and homely. Not by much, but just enough to tell that somebody slept there, at least. That, and the Leo-ified, monster-free, broken-once-probably-taken-apart-like-five-times game console. Wii U. the shittiest fucking console out there. Percy stares at it, like he always does, dread amounting to his already weary patience.

Jason's Wii U takes so long to start, it's not funny. Not that waiting for an ancient Wii U to start up is funny business. Because it's not. It sucks pegasus balls. So, whilst Jason lugs the stupid hunk of crap up onto his nightstand, jammering around with the cables and his old television screen he dragged all the way from...somewhere (probably some Good Will, looking at it,) Percy and Nico sort of stand around.

Not much is spoken, like there usually is. Normally, Jason and Percy throw quips back and forth. Mainly about Percy not really being able to make sense of all the wiring. Not to say that the atmosphere isn't pleasant, because it is – in his opinion, at least – but it's just quieter. Percy's not really used to the quiet, but he's been adjusting since Annabeth left. He guesses that maybe, with Nico, it'll just be some more practice. “There we go,” Jason sighs.

Nico cocks his head at it, “That's a really small game console.” Percy chuckles, whilst Jason furrows his eyebrows, “What were you expecting?” He shrugs, “Y'know, the really big ones with the coin slots.” Percy scratches his cheek, “They're arcade machines, bud. These are the...kinda newer stuff. Not really. Because the Wii U is crap.” The son of Jupiter looks wounded, “Hey! I worked hard to get this thing!” His complaint falls on deaf ears.

He rocks on his heels, before flopping onto Jason's bed. He pats the space beside him, where Nico tentatively perches on the edge. Fight or flight, to an extent. “I think I have to go teach some of the kiddies to train later,” He mutters, stretching, “So let's keep this to, like, three rounds, maybe.” Jason nods, “Yeah – that sounds good. I might join you.” Both of them turn to Nico.

The kid looks down at his feet, lost in thought. Percy nudges him, “You wanna come train with us later?” He blinks at him, before shaking his head, “Fuck no. Kids are horrible.” He can't stop a chuckle from rising to the surface, as he nods a little, “Sometimes they are, I guess.” Jason sounds sage as he says, “They're only horrible if they weren't raised right.” Nico is silent for a moment – blank, unblinking – before he scoffs, “Whatever.” Percy wonders if that's a sore spot for him.

Nico has a lot of sore spots, tender topics.

Percy's not done well to protect them.

Oh hello guilt. Percy thought he'd be free, for at least today. But no, no, of course not. Guilt chokes him like he choked Misery and it's haunting to think back and see the fear in Annabeth's face. It's easier to detect fear after causing it. That's what he hasn't shared with Jason, hasn't shared with anyone. Causing fear is intoxicating.

A controller is dropped into his lap. Right. Mario Kart. He feels a smile form on his face – it's not genuine, he knows. It feels like it's dripping off his face. “A'iiiight,” He drawls, “Ready to get your ass beat, Jase?” The Roman scoffs, puffing up his chest proudly, “As if. Watch me mop the race track with you.” The bickering goes back and forth, until Nico shifts a little and sinks into the bedding. He looks so tired. Percy looks down at him, concerned, “Hey Nico.” Just hello, because he isn't totally sure how he's meant to respond to a sleepy death child. Poor kid.

“Hmm?” The son of Hades opens his eyes, looking at him like a cat disturbed from a nap, “What'd I miss?” Jason nudges him with his elbow, “Are you sleeping okay?” He nods, rubbing his eyes, “Uh, I mean. Yeah.” A stunted answer. Dubious. Percy and Jason share a disbelieving look. “If you're tired, you don't have to -”

“I want to be here.” It's a desperate, rushed sort of statement. Tired Nico = Unfiltered Nico, Percy noted. The older boys share another look, before Jason crumbles into a brotherly smile (it makes something inside Percy _twitch._ ) “Okay,” Jason relents, ruffling Nico's hair, “Okay. But if you get tired, you can lay down for a while, alright?” They receive a wordless mumble in response. He slumps over a little, rubbing his eyes, “A'ight.”

* * *

So, needless to say, Nico ended up falling asleep. By the last few rounds between Percy and Jason, the kid had slumped over until he fell into Percy's lap. It cost him what would've won him the rising tie between him and his Roman companion, but...it was worth it.

A soundly sleeping, soft Nico in his lap? Totally worth it. He found himself multiple times playing with Nico's hair, how it curled around his fingers like spilled ink, how his breaths were shallow – not a deep sleep, but that's not surprising. Percy can understand where the kid's coming from. Night terrors vs passing out to dreamless, fitful slumber? It's a no brainer on that front.

But now that Jason and Percy are finished, that means they have to go and train the younger campers. That also means one of them has to carry Nico back to his cabin. “I'll meet you there,” He finds himself whispering, “I'm gonna take him back to his cabin.” Jason looks pensive, before he sighs, nodding. Makes him wonder what the Roman has against him. It's weird – how Jason doesn't seem to trust him alone with Nico. It's weird. He doesn't comment on it, as he carefully cradles the far-too-light son of Hades.

Balanced on his hip, because if Nico wakes up to a bride-carry, Percy has a feeling he might get clocked in the jaw. He doesn't want that.

A couple campers mutter under their breath, eyes drawn to Percy as he strolls through camp. It irritates him to no end, crawls under his skin. He hears a few _He never did that for Annabeth_ float around, some other whispers along the same track. He pretends he doesn't feel sick when he hears them.

The snoozing bundle of black clothing hums some, eyebrows furrowing with discontent. He slurs something under his breath, right leg twitching. Percy holds him a little tighter, whispering, “You're okay, it's just me. Taking you back to your cabin, that's all.” It seems to do the trick. He's never known himself to be as soft as he was just then. It's a conflicting sort of contentment in his chest. How easily he fell into that _big brother_ role. Percy wonders if that's Nico's effect on everybody or just him. Huh.

Well, whatever the answer is, it doesn't matter. Nico groans a little more, digging his face into the crook of Percy's neck. He wonders if the younger boy feels his pulse spike. Percy rubs his back, awkwardly using his elbow to push open Cabin Thirteen's door. It's dark inside, which isn't much of a surprise. He trips up on creaking floorboards before settling Nico onto one of the few beds in the cabin. He's glad they finally got to refurnishing this place; it seriously gave him (quote-unquote) _heebie jeebies_ (courtesy of Leo.)

Still, Nico moans miserably, twisting and shifting around on the bed. He looks so distraught with the sudden lack of contact. In a spur of the moment sort of thing, Percy carefully sits on the edge of the bed, “You okay?” The younger boy immediately curls in his direction. It's like he's actually – as if he really seeks company. Huh. Well – not _huh_ , because it's not exactly news.

Percy's always suspected that, deep inside, somewhere clotted with grudges and gravesoil, all Nico's ever really wanted is a hand to hold. Or a hug, somebody to pat his back. A complex of sorts, he decides on, because the poor kid has a major trust issue. As in I-will-use-a-ten-foot-burning-poker-to-keep-you-the-fuck-away-from-me.

But the son of Hades lets out a quiet sound, eyebrows furrowing. That is, until his (long, bony, cold) fingers brush against his hand. Then his features even out. He doesn't know if he's just over-thinking it, but he wonders if Nico's soothed by the pulse he can feel under Percy's skin. Shaking it off, he stands up, heading to the cabin's door. He has to go help Jason train kids to fight. Great.

Godammit – another sad little noise. He grits his teeth, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Maybe he can just spare five more minutes...no. No. No! Percy said he'd help Jason...and he was going to stick to his word.

“Mffh...stay?”

He reaches for the door, every bone in his body against him. Percy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to tune out Nico's sleep-heavy words. He's dreaming, Percy knows, but it feels like the kid is calling out to _him_ specifically. Shutting his eyes doesn't help much. It just amplifies Nico's restless movements, every fidgeting twist that get him more and more tangled in his gray sheets. Every little discontented mumble. Every hitched breath. Damn it. Percy looks over his shoulder. Needless to say, his resolve crumbles immediately. His brotherly instincts kick in.

The younger boy has literally ruined his fresh-made bed in maybe less than three seconds. The poor cleaning harpies – they must appreciate that he doesn't stay in his cabin often. But, well, Percy may or may not have contributed to the mess. He _did_ leave Nico's boots on. And in general, Nico just needs a bath. Not like – because of poor hygiene everything, but one of those really relaxing baths with the salts and whatever. According to his mom, they do wonders.

So Percy shuffles back over. Totally reluctant. Not like he bounded across the cabin in a couple easy strides. Not at all as if he had made sure he was at the kid's side as soon as humanly possible. No, no, Percy was definitely finding this tiresome and an inconvenience, staying with Nico instead of going outside and dealing with tiny campers that ask the same questions.

“What's being a hero like?”

“Is it as easy as it looks?”

“Why did you break up?”

“What about Annabeth?”

“Where is Annabeth?”

It's not as if Percy is avoiding campers because he can see all the survivors and find his own demons in their eyes. Not at all. He's not scared. Not afraid that all of them will be crushed like Nico got crushed, like he got crushed. Seriously, it's nothing to do with that. It's not like Percy is worried that if he takes one step out of his cabin, all eyes will turn to him expectantly, and he'll cripple as if he's too deep underwater and the pressure is making his lungs collapse. He's not scared. He's not frightened. He's not _fucking terrified_.

Looking up, Percy stares at Nico's disheveled form. He's scuffed up and left boot prints all over where he started kicking, shifting around. His comforter's been shoved to the bottom corner, half on the floor. The kid's shirt's rucked up too, and Percy decides that he needs to ask him mom to send some of his old clothes to camp. Because, _gods_ , does Nico need some new clothes. His jeans are too small; they bite at his hips, leaving red imprints of the denim where they had been previously. But, weirdly, he looks like he belongs there.

Carefully, he picks Nico up (bridal style this time,) and deposits the kid onto the other bed. It's the only other one in the cabin, and he's stuck between saying it was for Bianca or if it's for Hazel. Either way, it makes his heart squeeze. The bed doesn't look like it's been touched once. Wandering over to the linen cabinets, Percy drags out bedding. It's kinda hard, trying to undress a bed and redress it by yourself. You get used to it, though, when you're a lonely child of the big three. He wonders, idly, if the son of Hades has the same sort of mundane skills like Percy picked up from being alone. Like how to reach the high places without assistance from a cabin-mate, or learning all the little cheats when it comes to cabin inspection. Or, for example, making a bed by himself.

Before he knows it, Percy's smoothing down the creases in the comforter. Done. Pillow all fluffed up, all the corners of the mattress' sheets tucked securely, comforter all nice and presentable. The bedding is black, this time, not gray like the previous one. Black comforter, with a slate-blue pillow-case and mattress sheets. Percy decides he likes the gray-blue accents to it more than he tolerated the blank gray bedsheets. It just felt right.

Maybe he's biased, because it's blue.

Something tells him he isn't. It's right.

(He likes the idea of Nico in blue.)

Quietly, he makes his way back over to Nico, carefully untying the kid's shoelaces and slipping his boots off. He rests them at the foot of Nico's bed. Then comes his jacket, left on the bedpost. The stray thought of whether Nico has pajamas – or _comfortable clothing, like for fuck sake_ – comes to mind. And, yeah, okay, Percy feels vaguely guilty about snooping through Nico's stuff. But it's minor guilt in the search for comfort versus the major guilt of leaving Nico uncomfortable and in shitty clothing when there is a possibility of coziness that he neglected. So. It's not that hard to get over it.

His closet is the most viable option. So Percy hums softly, opening the closet and staring blankly at the empty shelves lining the left side, the lonely clothing hangers on the right. The drawer along the bottom looks promising, though. Crouching, he opens it: not clothing. But still something interesting. A sketchpad, a plain pencil case and a – ah... Pursing his lips, Percy gingerly picks up the blade. It's small, looks like it's been pried from a pencil sharpener. Glancing to the still-sleeping Nico, Percy pockets the blade and decides that's that.

Still no pajamas. Huffing, Percy shuts the drawer, closing the closet and tip-toeing back over to the kid. He stirs a little when Percy unbuttons his jeans. And – okay, yeah, it might looks a little (a _lot_ ) pervy. He bites his lip – hard – and carefully tugs the jeans off of Nico. Percy awkwardly folds them up, leaving them on the little 'bedside table'. It looks like a fruit crate with a table cloth thrown over it. Yikes.

He once again returns to Nico, tugging the comforter over his slender form. Maybe it's jinxing it, but he whispers, “Sweet dreams, bud.” At that moment, the kid jerks sharply and his eyebrows knit together. He grits his teeth together, silently cursing himself. Of course he had to fuck it up. The son of Hades shifts, curling onto the side closest to Percy. He's lying when he says it doesn't make him feel special. Doesn't make him feel like their bond is stronger than either of them seem to give off.

The fact that he whimpers, “Percy -” so desperately doesn't prove anything.

Percy falling immediately to his knees by his bedside means nothing.

“I'm here.” Not that he has been in recent years, but that's why they're trying to change that now. He's here _now_ , because he fucking left this kid to fend for himself after, what, day three? Maybe not even that. But he's here now. And it may not be significant now, settling Nico during a stressful sleep, but it sure as Hades will mean something later. The way Nico's frown softens is all Percy needs to decide that maybe Jason can handle training by himself.

“Percy – no, no, no -” Nico's face crumples up. It reminds him of thin sheets of paper getting scrunched up and discarded. “Come back – don't go, no, Bianca -” This time, the poor kid grips his pillow tightly, breaths wavering the more he curls up on himself. Percy's heart sinks; Bianca. Oh gods, Bianca. The list goes on, but Bianca was one of the first. “I'm sorry,” Drips from his lips like a leaky faucet.

He doesn't know who said it first; him or Nico. But it was distinct – one watery and miserable, the other gravelly and quavering. He watches Nico twist some more, untangling him from the comforter each time he settles. It continues like this for another five minutes, before Nico's breathing increases rapidly. Hyperventilation, that's what it reminds Percy of. A familiar action.

Alone in his cabin, Percy hyperventilates a lot. Crumbles to his knees, hiding in the shadow of his water fountain, quick breaths condensating on the glass. The utter panic ripping through him, the inability to see straight, thoughts wild and incoherent, yet making _too much sense_ that it hurts. But that's not relevant.

In the middle of staring down at Nico, it's hard not to think of him as a corpse. How he suddenly fell so still, the anxious redness that had appeared in his cheeks fading. His eyes look bruised; accentuated by the teartracks that roll down to his temples, the dark shades of purple and blue stark against his flesh. So, it hurts his pride admitting that he startled when black, glassy eyes snapped open. But it's fascinating, in this weirdly sickening fashion. It has him questioning his morality for a second.

Nico throws himself into a sitting position. He says nothing, staring glossily into the empty void that apparently drifts in front of him. This close, Percy's always struggled with _not_ creepily taking in details. So he relents. Clumped eyelashes, like the jagged edges of stalactites, eyes red and blotchy. A glazed quality to them, both from his lack of _seeing_ and the remaining tears. Percy hadn't even really registered that the kid had been crying. He's heaving, slightly, knuckles bone-white as he clutches his sheets.

One breath. Two, three.

Percy breaths with him.

Eventually, Nico turns to look at Percy. His hair curling around his ears, cheeks damp but colorless, mouth a grim line. He's still unseeing, not quite understanding the fact that Percy's heart is racing faster than Arion when he's showing off. The kid blinks at him. Clarity breaks into his gaze like grinding steel together. It sparks.

Wordlessly – almost ashamed, Percy can feel it rolling off of him in waves – he wipes his face with his sleeve. Percy smiles, soft, softer than he ever remembers being, “You okay?” Nico nods. “T-Thought -” He coughs wetly. Take two: “I thought you we...were goin' t' train.” He shrugs, fiddling with the loose threads on his jeans, “Was getting you to bed, first. You conked out back at Jason's.” The kid winces, apologetic. “ 'M sorry,” He mutters. Percy shrugs, “It's okay. You need your sleep.”

Though, clearly, Nico and Hypnos don't appear to be on good terms right now. Makes two of them. The kid knits his eyebrows, “Where's Jay?” Oh yeah. Fuck. Percy was meant to go meet up with him by now. Yikes. “Oh – uh. Yeah...” There's three solid knocks at the cabin door, a loud whisper-shout, “Perce? Perce, you in there?”

“It's open, Jay!” Nico calls. Then he sniffs some, wiping his face once more. If Percy hadn't been here to watch him cry, it's almost as if it never happened. Like magic. He'll have to ask Nico to share his secrets.

Not that Nico does that in the first place.

What with them not being close and all.

(They're improving, though. He thinks.)

With a creak, the door opens. Light floods the room, a solid strip of it widening the more Jason pushes through. The Roman raises an eyebrow at me, unimpressed, “Bro, you were meant to be at the training ar -” He stares hard at Nico, frown on his mouth. Then the concern breaks through the confusion, the sharp transition like the scorched earth after lightening. “You okay, Nico?” The blond makes it across the room in easy strides. The same fashion Percy had done; casually rushed, nonthreatening but not without urgency. Romans. They must have perfected that sort of demeanor long before Percy managed to get the hang of it.

Nico scoffs from his place on the bed. “At ease, Grace,” He jokes, but there's lacking humor, “What makes you think somethin's wrong?” He can't decide if he likes Nico's just-woken slur. It's cute, but with the fact that he had been crying, it's groggier than what could pass for anything attractive that's often written about. He knows for a fact that the son of Hades will deny that his voice cracked if anybody asked. So it wasn't brought up.

Jason crouches beside me on the floor, humming, “Well, Percy's still here, for one. So something happened.” He gets a really hopeful glint in his eye, like he's asking Nico some sort of unspoken question. In response, the younger demigod glowers at him. “Two,” He continues, “You look like you just had a nightmare.” Makes Percy wonder why _Jason_ knows what Nico looks like post-terror.

The son of Hades scoffs, raking a hand through his hair before swinging his legs to the side of the bed and pushing himself to stand. He furrows his eyebrows, brushing his fingers over his bedding. Percy's chest tightens, like he's worried Nico will lash out at him. Instead, all he does is look at Percy once, before disappearing into the bathroom. It was one of the immediate changes of the Big Three cabins – some sort of reward, maybe. Privacy.

Both older demigods stand at the same time, trailing to the bathroom. Nico leans over the sink, staring at the mirror a little. He's pulling at the skin around his eyes, of which are still bloodshot (but when _weren't_ they at this point?) A pale finger digs roughly along the circles under his eyes. “I'm fine, Jay.” He sounds so deflated.

Percy leans against the doorway, “But you've been better.” The silence thickens the air, broken only by the dripping from the loose faucet. In an act of bravery, he strolls into the bathroom and shuts the tap off all the way. “Right?” He presses, gently, like you prod a bruise, but Nico doesn't move. Jason comes to stand on his other side. Instinctively, the son of Poseidon takes a step back. He doesn't want to cage Nico in, doesn't want to corner him. That's not fair. And not what Nico needs. He's like a claw machine. Give him time, and he'll drop into the right place.

In this case, it's a matter of falling into the right hands.

Hopefully, those hands are Percy's. He'll catch him.

“'Course I've been better,” Nico whispers. He turns the faucet back on, running his hands under the water and splashing it in his face. It doesn't make him look any better, but it's a start. “But for now, I'm fine.” Jason stares at him, searching. He looks away, empty handed. Idly, Percy wonders what the Roman was looking for.

Nico steps back out of the bathroom, wiping his face on his sleeve, “Don't you guys have training to do?” Jason throws Percy a look, before shrugging, “I got Piper to watch them for a few minutes. I came to find Percy.” Dark eyes shift to him, confused and – and scared. Percy's stomach twists, drops and curls up some more on itself. He gives Nico a gentle smile, trying to ease whatever fears the boy is feeling. He hopes to gods above that Nico isn't afraid of _him._ He's had enough of that. Enough of everything, really. Man, they need to take a break. Go on vacation, maybe. Travel, get away for a while. That sounds fun. Maybe a beach. The Canary Islands sound nice.

“Look -” He clears his throat, sitting back on his bed, “You don't...” The moment Percy sits beside him, he trails off, pulling his knees to his chest. “Don't worry,” He gets out, eventually, “You guys do your thing. I'm okay.” _For now._ Percy twists a little, turning to look at Nico face-value, “Bud, it's okay to be a little lonely. Seriously – you can come with us, if you want? Or we could just -”

Jason rests a hand on his shoulder, “Nico, we're here if you need us.” Nico shrugs, playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie, “I know.” So quiet. Everything is so quiet, Percy feels like screaming. Just to make some noise, you know, just to get this creeping white noise of out of his head.

Jason goes on, talks about something. Friendship, people who support him, who are there. Percy feels like he's going to vomit. The dark floorboards of Cabin Thirteen distort, break away, start crumbling. Give way to a never ending pit, sorrow and terror gripping at him and trying to drag him back in. Nico's bed disappears, turns into a cliff; gods, Percy wants to jump. But not into that. Not back _down there_ , he can't, he wouldn't survive a second time.

His head is throbbing, his breaths feel like slush in his lungs. _Fuck._ He doesn't want to fall, but he does, just not down there again, please, oh gods. There's hand on his shoulder, voices warbling through cotton in his ears. There's a pressure behind his yes, feels like his mind is going to split.

The hand squeezes, and there'a face in front of him. Silver eyes – so pretty, intelligent, all Percy ever thought he'd want in life. Soft, full lips that he's kissed so many times, blonde hair that curls just right and freckles that make Percy hurt more than any stabbing could. She whispers, Annabeth, she whispers, sounding so scared and terrified and _understanding_ , but Annabeth's never really understood what went through his head. “Percy?”

The hand on his shoulder becomes two, holding him up even though he wants to curl up and cry. Sob until the fills a room with his tears, choke on them, then _not drown_ , because he has the curse of being Poseidon's son.

Annabeth waves a hand in front of his face, concern lacing her voice in a way that doesn't fit her, but she's here, gods she's _here_ and not in New Rome, so far away from him and making him _hurt hurt hurt._ Fuck. “Percy, stay with me. Jason's gone to get someone.” Is he breathing? No, he's not breathing.

The pit keeps calling for him, crumbling and tearing away at the earth around. It's getting bigger, calling for him, trying to drag him back under. No, no, he shakes his head, trying to breathe through the rising panic. Annabeth furrows her eyebrows, frown pinching her mouth in a way that isn't her, but somebody else. “Percy, what do you see? Talk to me.”

He gasps, clutching at his jeans, shaking his head to try and get rid of the white noise. It's getting louder, so loud. “I -” Percy screws his eyes shut, teeth grit, “The – the _pit_ , it's the pit, and I don't wanna go down, I don't, please don't make me -” The hands move from his shoulders to his face. Annabeth's hands are too rough, it's the placement of her callouses that doesn't make sense, her wording too not-her to really make sense. “I won't let you go down, Percy, okay? You're not going anywhere.”

There's an iciness rising in his chest, like water straight from Acheron, all the people he's ever lost swimming in his vision. He scrabbles for purchase, on something – anything – and falls to his knees. Annabeth catches him, like she always does. The ground is solid under him, but any second now, it's going to cave in, they'll fall, fall, fall and oh gods, he doesn't want to fall. He doesn't. If he does, he wants to _die on impact_ , not fall into hell again.

Something leaves his mouth – a noise, some untangible noise, like a whimper. Demigods aren't supposed to whimper, Percy in particular. Nico, Percy, Jason – strong demigods, sons of the Big Three, demigods strong enough to ruin continents. And he's here, he's crying, maybe screaming, there's something resting just above the small of his back and all breath leaves his mouth. It's not sharp, that thing resting above his weakest point, it's a hand. A hand carefully shielding him, from anything, from monsters from anything that wants to hurt him.

For a second, Percy feels safe.

“I won't let you fall. I promise.”

_Promise. Promise. Promise._

Percy forces his eyes open, blinking through tears. The blonde hair is gone, those lovable curls he adored so much. It's not there anymore. Neither is that tanned flesh, from so many summers in a magically controlled camp, the sunshine so bright that the illusion of _okay_ was too vivid to fight. In it's place is the scuffed leather of a familiar jacket, wrought hands made from marble and nails crusted with dirt and blood. Percy presses his face into the younger demigod's neck, inhaling the scent of rich earth and minerals.

The floorboards come back; mahogany of sorts, dark and solid. The gray-blue bedsheets of Percy's own doing are rumpled and messy, from where he fell off the bed into the younger demigod's arms. The darkness of the cabin doesn't scare him, but he's still struggling to breathe, still struggling to force the fear to the back of his mind. But he's in the younger demigod's arms, a hand protecting him from terrors whilst the other cards soothingly through his hair. “P-Promise?” There's only one person that Percy promises things to anymore.

There's a nod, and Percy's nuzzling back into Nico's neck, breathing ash, breathing death, and being okay with it. Nico rocks back and forth a little, looking pensive as he wracks his brain for something. “Tell me five things about your surroundings, Perce.” Percy wants nothing more than to scream. Shriek, flail, punch a wall until he bleeds. But he can't regulate his breathing, can't think of anything but Nico's request. “The curtains are black.”

Nico nods, humming, “What else?”

“The bathroom light is still on.”

An encouraging noise. Percy's heart does a knotty-twisty thing. “Anything else?” He finally finds mobility in his arms, moves them to clutch at the son of Hades, holds him close. He's not getting away this time. Clearing his throat, Percy forces a breath through his teeth, “There's no hole. It – it's all wood. Planks. Wooden planks.”

Nico pulls away a little, a tiny little smile on his face, “You're doing so good.” Percy wonders what he's doing good at, but accepts the praise anyway. Annabeth never praised him like that. “The -” Squinting, he wipes his eye, “You have a little pot plant on your windowsill.” It's a cactus. Cute little cactus. Fitting. Nico's always so prickly. Percy sighs shakily, “And you've got blue-gray bedding.” The younger demigod hums at this, sounding amused, but is careful to remain pliant to the crushing grip Percy has on him. “Yeah,” He whispers, blowing a breath into his hair, “Wonder how that happened.”

Percy's heart is still racing, trapped in his chest, but he can get a couple breaths in. It's a refreshing feeling. Like when you fall into an icebath – the shock gets to you, but your lungs seize up a little.

“I got you,” Nico whispers, leaning into him a little, “Breathe.” Percy's eyes flutter closed – his skin feels tacky where tears have dried up, but he ignores it. He doesn't know who's counting – him or Nico – but somebody's counting to five before inhaling, another five when he exhales. It's a good method. It's the one Annabeth tried to teach him, but he never got the hang of it. “Got you too,” He feels the need to say.

He pulls away to find dark eyes, trying to convey the emotions he can't express. “I – I do, I promise.” Nico smiles at him, more fond this time, not afraid of the eggshells scattered around Percy. Now, he's tromping on thin ice with steel-cap boots, uncaring if the ice breaks underneath him. Not petrified by the possibility of Percy dragging him under, of getting him caught in the cold with him. But Nico's been cold for so long already.

“I know.” Nico opens his mouth to say something else, but the cabin door slams open. Percy rubs his eyes, sniffling wetly as he looks away from the eyes that suddenly pin him to the floor.

“Little late, Grace.” The son of Hades stands, squeezing Percy's shoulder in a departing gesture before he goes to settle whatever commotion was rising up outside of his cabin. The people left with him are Jason, Will Solace, and Chiron. The centaur lingers near the door, unable to fit inside, whilst Solace creeps towards him tentatively, “Hey, Percy.”

Percy waves at him, weakly, not looking at him. He doesn't want anybody to see him like this. Jason mutters with Chiron in the background as Solace asks him a series of questions. They range from 'can you count how many fingers I'm holding up?' to 'does anything hurt?'. Percy thinks it's best not tell answer with 'my pride'.

“I'm fine,” He finally sighs, standing and stepping away from Solace. “Fine. Peachy. I'm better, okay, I'm good.” He looks around, “Where's Nico?” Three pairs of eyes watch him cautiously. Like he's a ticking timebomb. It only frustrates him. Percy runs a hand through his hair, zipping up his hoodie, “Where's Nico?” Jason clears his throat, “Bro, I think you should sit down. You just -”

“Yeah, I know what just happened, Jason.” He narrows his eyes, “I was there for it.” Solace clears his throat a little, stepping closer, “Percy, I think it'd be better if you sit down. You should drink some water, have something to eat.” Percy rolls his eyes, tugging at his hair a little more, “Yeah, whatever. I'll get to it. Where's Nico?” Chiron rests a heavy hand on his shoulder. Percy wants to punch him. “Easy, Percy. Will is right; how about we get you back to your cabin, settle down with some food and drink. You'll feel better.” He grins his teeth together, willing himself not to burst Nico's piping.

“Yes,” He bites out, “I said I'll get to it.” Pinching his eyes, he tenses up a little, “I just want to know where Nico is. Why won't you tell me?” Jason crosses his arms, “Dude, you're not listening.” Done. Percy's done. Goodbye.

He shoulders past them, slamming the door open, “I'm _listening_ , Grace, but I want to know where -” He stops short, staring out to the mess of campers that are gathered outside the cabin. They're like algae coagulated in still water, murmuring and sharing worried glances back and forth. And there's Nico, trying to get them all to leave. He sounds pissy himself, irritation increasing the more people that gather. “Okay, seriously, go the fuck away.”

The ground trembles. Shrieks and surprised yells spark up. Percy grips onto one of the fence posts on the porch, trying to ignore all the imploring gazes. They all scream _save us, hero_. But he wont. Because there's nothing to be saved from.

Skeletons start clawing from the ground, armed with crumbling weapons and decaying armor. The campers scramble away, like sheep herded by a dog. Nico huffs, letting them all drop to the ground. He shuffles a little, rubbing his eyes, “Ugh.” Percy stumbles down the steps, claps a clumsy hand on Nico's head. He ruffles his hair, “You okay?” Nico snorts, “Should be asking you that.” Mm. Maybe.

Percy sighs, “I'm hungry.” Nico sighs, “Same.”

They glance at each other, “McDonald's?”

* * *

Much to the protest and dismay of Chiron, the son of Jupiter and the son of Apollo, they left camp. It was an easy escape, of course, since Nico pulled them into the first shadow big enough. Percy nearly vomited when they emerged into an alley, but that's all.

McDonald's was nostalgic, painful and pleasant. Painful, because Percy remembers coming here a few times when he was younger and wondering why the cashiers hate their jobs and anybody that bothers them. Most of them had been pubescent, pimple-faced teenagers in the throes of angst. Now he knows that they'll never understand pain like he does. Nostalgic, because, well, it's a communal place for both him and Nico. Nico has always loved McDonald's, have many memories of the fast food joints in California, whilst Percy just remembers so many nights walking by McDonald's and wondering if maybe one day he could get a Happy Meal.

And, well, the pleasant part is self explanatory. He's here, stuffing his face with a Big Mac, laughing and snorting his cola whenever Nico contributes something to the conversation. He's rosy faced in the warm light, the sun shining through the window. Percy's never seen Nico so vocal, casually telling him about something that happened with Hazel the other day. Percy just smiles, chomps his fries, forgets that technically, they aren't even friends.

Nico waves his hand a little, dunking a chicken nugget into the little ketchup cup, “But yeah, she was all 'oh Nico no' and I just -” He pauses, shaking his head fondly, “I dunno. So then I get paint all down her shirt.” He smiles, “Sounds like something you'd do.” The other demigod huffs, hand on his chest, “Excuse you.” He raises an eyebrow as Nico smirks, “It's _totally_ something I'd do.”

Percy rolls his eyes, swallows his burger, “What did she do after that?” Nico grins a little, shaking his head, “She shoved me over. Got a scab on my knee an' everything.” He falls quiet, in thought. Then he glances up at Percy, “Hazel got really guilty after that, wouldn't stop saying sorry. Just a cut, nothing bad, but.” He nods, taking a sip of his cola, “She means well. She doesn't want you to get hurt again.” It's a bitter smile, this time, his eyes dimming, “Yeah, well. We're demigods. We're _made_ for wear-and-tear.” His voice is soft, quiet, “I don't think she gets that.”

the silence isn't tense. Not awkward, not strange. But it's there, hovering, lingering. Gloomily, like some sort of wraith. Nico frowns, picking at his fries, “Sorry – I...I didn't mean to make this sad.” Percy kicks him under the table, “Hey, it's fine. I get it, okay? It's hard not to think about that stuff.”

“Especially when you're a child of the Big Three.”

He nods, swallowing thickly, “Especially then.”

Looking forlorn, he stares out the window. It's ironic, Percy thinks, that the clouds chose _now_ to hide the sun. it gets colder almost immediately. Nico furrows his eyebrows, “You going back to camp, after this?” Percy looks up at him, “You're not?” Scrunching his nose, the son of Hades shakes his head, “I don't feel like dealing with Chiron and Will hounding me about using my powers in camp.” He rolls his eyes at that, reclining in his chair. Petulant, that's the word he's looking for.

Angry little boy pouting over his chicken nuggets. He can't help but smile at him, nodding, “I get that. Thanks for -” He shrugs, gesturing vaguely, “Y'know. Getting me out of there.” Nico cocks his head, smiling that sweet little smile that brings out the cute dimples just in front of where his jaw connects. “It's fine.”

They stare down at their meals, companionable quietude between them. Percy wants to reach out, squeeze Nico's hand and tell the kid that everything's okay. Everything will be okay, as long as they stay together. As long as this kid is with him, Nico will be okay. That's what he wants to believe. He jerks to attention when a pinky finger curls around his – his heart palpitates messily. “Not to make this mushy, but I'm always here.” Percy stares at him for a moment, blinking dumbly, before he cracks a smile. “Y-Yeah. Yeah. I – yeah, the same. I'm – I'm here. Whenever you need me.”

The scene is far too heartfelt and sappy to belong in a rundown McDonald's restaurant. But it worked. It fit. The sun lit up again, this soft glow through the window, the shadows cast were long and unloving in comparison to the warmth emitted by Apollo. Their fingers are still linked.

Percy realizes he's never seen Nico in sunlight so close before. Not this sort of sunlight, the weirdly romantic kind that he adored watching Annabeth bask in. His heart clenches painfully. But Nico? Percy doesn't think he's meant for suns and cloudless days. The skies don't dance quite right in his dark eyes, the sun just makes him bleach-white and his hair doesn't shine. But he still looks pretty. Still that beat-up kid he'd been since they met.

Quietly, Percy chuckles, eyes closing. A heaviness weighs him down – the good kind. Like when you've been for a long run, stretched out afterward and collapsed into your couch cushions. Like when you get back from a long day to find a warm blanket with your name on it, a soft bed and welcoming arms waiting for you.

For a while, he just basks in the midday glow through the window, uncaring. It's an unusual thing; a thing he hasn't been able to do for what feels like years.

When he opens his eyes again, to the empty food wrappers and chewed straws, to the napkin doodles Nico's been messing with for the past half-hour, to the vacant fast food joint, he feels warm and fuzzy. The son of Hades is people watching. Their fingers still linked, hands extending across the table to meet halfway. And, man, Percy doesn't know how he missed this kid grow up. It's like just yesterday, the kid in front of him would've been younger, more angry, more sad, more lost.

Maybe he's still all of those things, but having matured so early, it's all bottled up. Percy cocks his head into the direction that Nico stares. A little girl, a little boy. Siblings, maybe. The girl has a braid, a green cap, a pretty smile. It's enough to make him swallow thickly, look away and will himself not to buckle at the knees and beg for forgiveness. But Nico doesn't even appear moved. He just stares. Blank. Like slate, like untouched stone, like freshly paved concrete.

“You finished?” He flinches, glancing up to Nico. The poor kid just looks tired. No more tears to be shed it seems, not on the topic of his reborn sister. Looks like he's had enough. So he nods, gathering their mess and depositing it into the trash on the way out. Beside him, the younger demigod doesn't so much as offer the girl a passing glance. They disappear into the alleyway just outside. The sun feels weak on his back, now.

They pause – another moment added to Percy's vastly collecting scrapbook of moments. Shoes shuffle on the concrete, scuffing broken glass and discarded hamburger wrappers. The traffic is sluggish, nearly at a standstill, only a couple feet away. Faint honking, tires turning, the breeze cutting past the alley's mouth like a chorus of whistles. Percy smiles. The younger demigod blinks up at him, and upon catching his expression, offers his own smile in return. “You ready?” A hand is held out for him to take.

There's a long second.

Percy takes his hand.

The shadows rush past his ears in a similar fashion the wind did, but more forceful. A faint pressure around his head, like hands cupped over his ears. In the brief moments they're in the shadow lanes, Percy can only think of how hot Nico's hand is in his. Only when shadow-traveling does this happen. Hand scalding like hot springs, like boiling water left a little too long to simmer. It's a welcome sensation, in the oppressing loneliness that welcomes Percy from the void.

Light floods his vision, makes him stumble as the ground materializes under his feet. Staggering to his bed, Percy leans heavily for a moment. The vertigo subsides, nausea (oddly enough) like seasickness ebbing away as Nico comes to sit by his bed. A look is thrown at him: _you good?_ Percy shoots him one back: _peachy._

And that's that.

They smile.

It's a couple hours until the bell sounds for dinner. Percy reclines into the blue linen of his bed, the embroidered seashells textured against the fabric, all of it so soft under his fingertips. A question that's been bothering him seeps from his mouth. Unintentionally, but like the way water soaks paper. With ease. “When are you leaving?” Okay, so maybe he could've phrased that a little better.

Nico doesn't seem to mind. He just hums, looking up from his boots, “Leaving your cabin or leaving camp?” He flops onto his back, “Camp.” The younger demigod shrugs, craning his neck to the ceiling, “Soon. A couple days, give or take.” He hums, nodding, “You gonna come back after that?” Another question of his, the ones that float around in the back of his head. Drip down the walls like condensation. Nico doesn't give him an immediate answer. When he does, it's not reassuring. “Why would I?”

Percy can literally _feel_ the claw-machine lose its grip.

Just stay calm, that's all he has to do. One slip and -

“Because you have people here who want you to stay.” Dark eyes shift to him with the intensity of a predator readying for the pounce. “You're one of them?” Percy nods, grabbing Nico's shirt and pulling him down. Now, side by side, Percy turns to Nico. Looks him in the eyes, watches how those pupils shrink at the proximity. Like he's afraid. It makes Percy wonder, once again, if Nico is afraid of him.

“Of course I'm one of those people, Nico. I've never wanted you to leave.” _my side_ is left unsaid. The kid has doubt all over his face, from the furrow between his eyebrows to the way it twists his lip. With a sigh, the kid turns away. The ceiling doesn't appear to offer solace, but he turns and stares at it, too, anyways.

“Why?” ~~_because you mean something to me_~~ _._ ”Because you're my best friend.” 

 


	2. fishing metaphors

Percy didn't see Nico for the rest of the day, but he supposes that's fine. He gets that the kid can only take so much of _people_ before he spends his lonesome in his cabin. For the remainder of the day, Percy spent most of his time making up for bailing on Jason. That is, playing lifeguard whilst the Ares and Aphrodite cabins go out to the lake and beg him to freeze it over. Yeah, not something he's figured out yet.

With a relatively dreamless sleep, he woke up to the sun streaming through his curtains. Ugh. For a while, it was a lot of tossing and turning, burrowing under the comforter and pretending it was still time for sleeping. It worked, almost. Just as he was drifting off again, there was knocking on his door. Which, y'know, wonderful.

There was the vague thought that Percy could maybe splash whoever was bothering him with water from ground's moisture. But he was too tired. And couldn't be bothered. The knocking continued for another minute or so, until the handle clicked and the door hinges whined. “Wake up bro, c'mon.” He groans, shuffling deeper into his sheets, “No.” Jason (because, really, who else would it be?) makes an impatient sound, “C'mon, bro. Gotta get breakfast into you. Most important meal of the day an' all.”

Honestly, all Percy wants to do is lie in bed all day and whimper a little over his hurting heart. Because, yeah, there _is_ only so long you can try and ignore a break up. Sure, it may have been mutual. May have made sense to end it. Doesn't make it hurt any less, and by gods, Percy feels like Aphrodite tore him a new one.

A hand grips onto his comforter, tugging it from his own hold on it. “No,” He whines. Just no. Enough. Give him a break, already, he's had enough of the stares and whispers. Jason sighs again, sitting on the bed. Percy can feel him by his feet. “Perce, seriously. You've been doing good so far, what happened?”

Yesterday's panic attack is what happened.

Jason doesn't need to know that. Not yet.

So he curls up some, with a huff, “Why don't you go make out with Reyna?” The Roman, clearly done with his antics, wriggles his fingers along Percy's ribs. “Hey! Hey, no! Bad!” He squirms away from the cunning fingers, kicking out and trying to bottle up groggy laughter, “No. Foul, I call foul! Not fair!” The Roman chuckles, “Not fair? Leaving Nico all alone in the pavilion isn't fair.”

That makes him sit up, “Why? Is he okay?” He can't help sounding concerned. His mother taught him to give a damn. The blond looks smug, a smirk playing on his face. “He's actually the reason I came to check up on you.” He pushes up his glasses, “You got him all worried.” Guilt curdles in Percy's stomach like sour milk. Ouch. “Oh...” He rubs the sleep from his eyes, scrambling to get out of bed, “Uh, I – let me get showered, I'll be there.”

He doesn't know what to make of Jason's chuckle. “Alright, Kelp Head, but make it quick.” The echo of his cabin door shutting resounds through the space. Percy huffs, staring into the mirror above his sink. He looks...he looks okay. He looked better yesterday.

Tired, that's the word. Maybe it was thinking about Annabeth all night that caused the redness to his eyes. Who knows. With a huff, Percy strips out of his pajamas (literally only his underwear,) and steps into his box-like shower. It's a shame Chiron wasn't generous enough for a bath-shower. He'd really like to just soak in a bubble bath at some point. Maybe a visit to his mom was due. Overdue, actually, but still. Percy decides he'll have to call her at some point. And utilize her new bathtub whilst he visited.

The shower isn't the most luxurious thing in his cabin. Clearly with only hygiene in mind, the floor is a metal grate and the only accessory other than the shower itself was a little shelf for...uh, wash-condiments. Soaps, shampoos, whatever. _Wash-condiments_.

Of course, all of his are very masculine and testosterone-labeled. Like his _Nivea_ waterlily and oil shower gel. Ignore the fact that it says _caring oil pearls & feminine scent of Water Lily_ in fine print at the bottom of the bottle. Because it's a totally non-dignity-damaging shower scrub. For men. And Percy's a man. Yeah. Also avoid looking at his 'for smooth and silky hair' _heads &shoulders_. Look, Percy just happens to have some self-respect, okay, and if that means he likes girly products then _fine_.

Percy steps out of the shower, grumbling to himself. Grabbing a towel, he dries off before knotting it around his waist, grabbing his toothpast and brush. There's a vigor to how he brushes his teeth, riled from his defensive argument with nobody in the shower. He runs a hand along his jaw – maybe he needs a shave? No, of course not, because Percy is apparently incapable of growing facial hair. And gods-dammit, he thinks he _really could_ pull off a goatee. Like Tony Stark. Look all cool and sly, with that good facial hair.

He frowns at himself in the mirror, annoyed.

Himself frowns back: _hey, don't blame me._

Such a great way to start the day. Percy shuffles out of the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair. He likes being wet out of the shower. It's a more mortal pleasantry, makes him feel a little more normal. Ha, _normal_. Frowning a little more, he drags some clothes out of his closet. The usual; blue jeans, orange shirt. It's old and faded – he's bound for a new one, by now. Especially when it rides up as he stretches. Hmm. He'll have to talk to Chiron about it. Man, there's a lot he needs to talk to Chiron about.

He slips on his shoes, heading out of his cabin. The sun shines brightly, makes the camp look like something more than a respite for battle wounds and disowned kids. What a good mood to set for this morning.

And people say he's a bright ball of cheer.

Well, they've never seen inside his head.

There better be coffee available to camp. Or alcohol. Anything to ease this ache inside him. He supposes it's about time; he's managed about three days without the break-up blues, Nico and Jason being nice buffers. But who knows, maybe this is it. This is the day, where the Erotes decide enough is enough. Gods, they hate him. Gods in general, not just that particular group. But Aphrodite-affiliated groups just seem to have it out for him anyways.

Percy makes it across to the pavilion, not meeting eyes and tuning out mutters. He goes through his regular routine; grab his food, dish some out with a mutter of, “To the assholes,” before shuffling to his table. He stops in the middle of the pavilion, looking around for – ah, there he is. Nico, pushing around his meager food on his plate. He looks sad, from a distance. Nothing new, but it still makes Percy purse his lips and debate whether trying to go over there is a good idea. Chiron let him off yesterday, but two days in a row? Fuck it.

More whispers – louder, louder, about him. He doesn't care at this point. The son of Hades needs some company. “Who's the god of morning?” Nico raises an eyebrow at him, “Eos.” He nods, biting into his cereal, “Fuck Eos.” Nico raises his other eyebrow, “What's wrong with Eos?” The son of Poseidon shakes his head, staring irritably out to the empty table he usually sits at, “She's a thing.” The kid hums, “She's the goddess _of_ the thing, but there's no reason to be rude. She's just doing her job. Give Eos some slack.”

Huffing, Percy yawns through a mouthful, “Whatever.” It takes a moment for him to realize he's coming off as rude. To Nico, of all people. Who doesn't deserve his wrath. Dammit. “Sorry,” He reproaches, “Just tired.” Nico nods. Now that Percy looks at him, the kid looks like he could use a nap. Maybe they could go chill out in his cabin, listen to some nice music and just _sleep all day because fuck being awake for this shit._

But nightmares are a thing.

Sadly, so are night-terrors.

“What've you got planned for today?” He leaves his cereal alone, turning to look at the younger demigod. The kid shrugs, playing with his hoodie. It's a new-looking thing; dark purple with _SPQR_ on the back. It looks to fit snugly, but it's unlike Nico to actually wear camp colors – Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter. Maybe it's Jason's. The idea makes something boil in his stomach, for some reason. Nico shrugs, “I dunno. Maybe message Hazel. Or give Reyna her hoodie back.” Oh. Reyna's hoodie. Okay. Percy frowns, “When were you so close to her?” He shrugs again, smiling softly, “I guess since we met. Y'know, just sorta...sorta _clicked_. Maybe.”

For a second, Percy would wager that Nico has a crush on the Roman Praetor. But, no, the admiration doesn't fit. It's – _gods_ , Percy swallows the bitterness at the back of his throat. It's like an anchor just dropped in his stomach. Sure, it isn't much, but already Percy can see it. Nico talks about Reyna like he used to about Bianca.

The idea doesn't settle easily.

It makes his throat tighten.

Idly, he traces the line of his own _SPQR_ tattoo, in thought for a moment. Lost in the mind-numbing guilt. He wonders how much he misses Bianca. Maybe not as much as Percy thought, if the incident yesterday meant anything. Then again, the son of Hades is good at hiding things. Emotionally and physically. The little blade he found yesterday burns a hole in his pocket. Will there ever be a good time to ask about that?

Not to jump to conclusions, but Nico doesn't roll up his sleeves much. He shakes the thought away, tuning back in to what Nico was saying. “- But yeah, not much, I guess. Just seeing folks back in Camp Jupiter and maybe not being a hermit.” _Folks_ , is all Percy paid attention to. “Folks?” Folks, as in family. People close to you. Percy feels pride well up like when you wring out a soaked sponge. It's a good feeling.

A faint redness rises in the kid's face, a nervous hand reaching to scratch his neck, “Uh, yeah. Y'know. Friends.” The last part is so quiet, Percy is only sure he heard it right due to the softness of the kid's eyes, “People I love.”

Dark eyes awkwardly meet his, as if he's afraid of Percy's response. He just smiles, ruffling the kid's hair, “I'm glad.” The moment is tender, so delicate and affectionate in ways Percy's only ever managed to have with certain people, “I'm so happy you've got people to love, Nico. You've got people who love you, too. It's good.”

Swallowing audibly, the son of Hades nods. “It's good,” He echoes, nodding some more. More certain, “It is good, huh?” He smiles down at his bland toast, looking brighter than the Times Square on Christmas. Percy did that, he can't help but think. Percy did that.

This unhappy morning got turned around by one conversation with Nico di Angelo. Not surprising, really. Something about this damn kid always makes Percy feel better. Even if all the hardships they've been through messed them up horribly, Nico's always made him smile and hurt and cry and love him so much. This kid's burrowed his way into Percy's heart like he burrowed into his comforter this morning. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Nico looks a little hesitant as he turns to Percy, question stuck between his clenched jaw. “Are you -” Clearing his throat, his voice drops to a whisper, “Are you okay? It took you a while to get here this morning.” He forces a smile, nodding, “Oh, I'm fine. Just wanted a lie-in, y'know?” Nico doesn't look convinced. He looks on the fence – stuck between diving into the deep end or staying in the shallow end and getting out. He chooses neither, instead swimming a little closer but not close enough for Percy to panic.

“I'm here if you want to talk.”

That's all that gets muttered.

The son of Hades returns to his plate, picking at his dry toast dully. Percy blinks at him for a long moment, confused. It's meant to be Percy reeling out the rod, meant to be Percy trying to lure Nico in. It's confusing. The tables got switched. Percy feels like a fish out of water in the moment – unscripted.

“Promise?” Because what is Percy if not a complete asshole. Still, Nico doesn't hesitate: “Promise.” Maybe it's cruel of him, but there's satisfaction in hearing Nico promise him things. Makes him more confident in his trust in Nico. Not that it ever faltered.

They smile – tired, weary, tired some more and maybe even a little bit done with people's bullshit. Percy ruffles his hair again, munching on the soggy remains of his cereal, “When are you gonna visit Hazel?” The kid shrugs – a favored motion – whilst he traces the rim of his cup with a finger. “Probably later. 'Round lunchtime, maybe. They're still asleep right now, so.” Nodding, Percy leans forward on the table, “What're you gonna do in the meantime?” Nico (you guessed it) shrugs, “Lounge around. Hide in my cabin. Ramp up those rumors about me being a vampire.” Absurd as it is, Percy laughs. Not quite a head-thrown-back laugh, but it's loud enough that a lot of campers startle and turn to look at him.

Percy Jackson? Laughing? After a break up with his girlfriend? _No way._ Yes way. Percy is capable of human function, fuckers. He grins down at Nico, shaking his head, “You're not a vampire.” Nico raises an eyebrow at him. Louder, Percy grins wider, “You're a zombie!” Nico's half-amused expression sours, eyes narrowing, “You fuck.” He grins, standing, “You betcha.”

“C'mon,” He crows, walking backwards, “Thought you wanted to prove you're a vampire?” Nico stands, looking all the moody teenager stuck babysitting, “You just called me a zombie! Chose your monster, Jackson.” He speeds up, trying to catch up with him.

He waits, feeling much more like the fisherman, reeling in the fish. It's a good feeling. But when Nico gets close enough, stopping with maybe an arm's length between them, Percy's heart spikes. Grinning, wider, wider, wider, he taps Nico's nose, “Tag.” Then he's off. For a solid three seconds, the kid stands there, bewildered.

After that, the quickly approaching thuds of his boots hitting the ground follow him. It's sort of scary, actually. Considering how vengeful Nico can be. Fuck. Percy runs faster, unsure where he's going, but campers grumble with annoyance when he brushes against them, the kid on his heels. “Come back, Jackson!” He lets out a chuckle, jumping over fallen logs that lay around the backs of cabins.

Sleepy campers peer from their windows, late risers glowering as they head towards the pavilion. He doesn't care at this point; this bad morning got turned around, and now they're laughing and yelling like kindergartner children. He readies to turn a corner – _oof._ A weight collides with his back, arms tangling around shoulders as the thing moves to sit on his back. “Tag! You're it, jackass!” He whines, “Not fair!” Secretly, his heart is racing, and it's not just from running around. It's making Nico laugh – the things he strives for, the things he'd die for. He turns the slightest bit, catching cute dimples and gleaming teeth in the morning sun. He looks like an angel.

They stare at each other; cheeks aching, vision a little blurry. Then Nico clears his throat, looking away and slipping off of the son of Poseidon. “Sorry – that was...” He clears his throat again, toying with his zipper, “It was a little much, huh?” They roll onto their backs, staring at the sky. Percy shoves him a little, smiling, “Nah. It was fun.” He's not sure if it's the sun or not, but the kid's ears turn pink.

This is good. This is great. Companionable silence, the pleasantries of birds in the trees, quiet voices from a distance. The ground is soft – the grass is green, sky is cloudless and blue. There's the familiar thud of a pulse in his wrist, breaths calming with the fresh air. He hasn't smiled like that since he broke up with Annabeth.

He hopes she's happy.

It's a stray thought.

He glances down at their hands. So close, but so far away. Three wild daisies between them, and lacking courage. Percy doesn't know why that bothers him. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe he just misses holding Annabeth's hand. Swallowing, he closes his eyes and thinks of something else. Like his mom. He needs to visit her, not just some hour-long IM reassuring her that he's alive. He hasn't seen her in forever.

Looking to Nico, the kid is just relaxing. It's a weird thing to see. A good kind of weird, something he'd like to see more often. Nico, just eyes closed and no worry on his face. Huggable. Percy refrains from doing so, from doing anything, and just follows Nico's lead.

There isn't a viable way to tell how much time passed, but it was long enough for Jason to find them. The familiar buzz of energy from the Roman thumps to sit at their feet. Percy peeks at him through one eyes. He's sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, chin resting on one of his hands as he watches them. Jason wears a fond expression; a mix of a amused, contentment and peace. Today appears to be a lazy day. Everybody's doing a little better. “You two just gonna cloud-gaze all day?” Nico lets out a noncommittal hum. “Maybe.”

Jason moves to lie on Nico's other side, folding his hands over his stomach, “Okay.” Percy moves to fold his arms behind his head. This is good. This is nice. Why can't they do this more often? All just chilling, relaxing.

“You going to camp later?”

“To see Hazel and Reyna.”

“Going by yourself?”

“Taking Percy with.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Most likely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Mhm.”

Percy ignores the pair of them. This feels oddly like when he goes to the bottom of the lake, but without the water and without the sensation of it rippling around them. It's weird to think like that, since the water's always been his quiet place, but this is just as good. On the fringe of the forest, behind the cabins, concealed from the everyday demigod. Just them. He smiles to himself.

He looks over to the other two, finding that Jason is already looking at him. Piercing blue eyes look questioning, assessing, trying to find something. He doesn't know what that is. Jason blinks, focusing on the fact that the older demigod is raising an eyebrow at him. The blond just smiles, before looking to Nico. The kid looks peaceful. Okay, he's not outright _smiling_ , but he's content. Quiet, as always, but still a lot less on his shoulders than usual. Maybe it's the color.

The purple of Reyna's hoodie brings more life to him, offering him comfort and protection. Big Sister Vibe TM. “Nico?” The youngest demigod (technically, shut up) curls up in the hoodie, pulling the drawstrings of the hood. All that can be seen are the loose curls of his hair, now. Percy smiles, shuffling a little closer, “Nico?” Nico balls up: knees to his chest, head tucked in his arms. He rolls to his side in the process, facing Percy. He looks adorable. “You tired, bud?” There's a muffled hum, the vague motion of him nodding. Jason huffs, “But you literally woke up not twenty minutes ago.”

Hades' son reminds Percy of a cat. Determined to laze in the sun, yowl and make mean faces when bothered. “Shut up, Jason. It's still, like, three AM.” Jason scoffs, “Yeah, in California.” Percy groans quietly, scratching his head, “Wait, so what time is it here?” Both demigods turn to stare at him. Then Nico hums, “'Bout twenty-past six? Whatever.”

Jason sits up, stretching. “I'm gonna go find Piper.” His not-girlfriend. He's happy with Reyna, even if the distance is a trouble. Nico hums, waving briefly before letting his hand drop, “Don't make out with her.” The blond chuckles, “Not planning on it.” At this, the kid sits up, looking deadly serious, “Good. You have an amazing girlfriend that won't hesitate to kick your ass, before I get the chance to.” It makes him chuckle, before coming to an abrupt stop as the kid narrows his eyes, “Have fun.”

Percy raises an eyebrow at him, the son of Jupiter rounding the corner of the cabins. “Protective, much?” The kid shrugs, “She's been through a lot. She doesn't need her heart toyed with anymore.” He can understand that. “They're good together, huh?” Nico nods, smiling small. “Yeah.”

And of course, Annabeth comes to mind. How good they were together. Her smiles, how she'd laugh at his antics, how he'd curl her hair around his fingers when he couldn't sleep. Gods, he misses that. They never – sex wasn't a thing, not really, with all that was going on. But maybe it's better that way. Less to miss. Not all first experiences need to be remembered with the lingering ache of his ex-girlfriend. He frowns, finding clouds clotting up the sun. Weird.

When he turns, Nico's already looking at him. Concerned. “Stop frowning.” A blunt statement that's enough to make him chuff bemusedly, “I'm not frowning.” The son of Hades raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Then what do you call that thing your mouth is doing?” Percy shrugs, “An upside-down smile.” He gets a long sigh in response. Nico plays with the blades of grass in front of him; the daisies don't wither when he touches them anymore. A sign of how far he's progressed. Not a little ten year old anymore. “So a frown.”

“An upside-down smile.”

“I know what a frown is.”

And that's what makes Percy shut up. Accepting defeat, he feels his whole body deflate. “You shouldn't have to,” Slips from him like water off the edge of the bathtub. It's accidental, but there's no stopping it. The kid, gods, this kid, he blinks up in shock. Dark eyes bore into the side of his face, a disbelief coloring his face. He furrows his eyebrows, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Percy shuffles onto his side, facing the younger demigod. He shrugs, “Just means I don't want you to be sad. Ever.” The next part is a whisper, “But I kinda fucked that up.” For long, bruising moments, Nico's eyes grow wider. A deep-set panic rising to the surface, as all color drains from his face. All Percy can read is: _fuck, he knows_. Makes Percy want to know what, exactly, Nico thinks he figured out.

When he doesn't express anything that feeds into Nico's fears, he settles. Clearing his throat, he shrugs, “No you didn't. That was my fault. I blamed you for stuff you couldn't help.”

The clouds grow darker, and he's not sure if it's something to do with Jason somewhere else in camp, or if it's him. Nico glances up, then to him, and back. “This is a shitty topic. C'mon, let's go do something.” Percy chuckles weakly, standing up. Nico brushes off his hoodie, sighing.

They stare at each other. It makes Percy's heart throb, learning that Nico is only a couple inches shorter now. Eyes meet, smiles shared, and it's such a cliché moment. With how Nico immediately dropped his eyes, it made him wonder what it was about eye-contact that scared him so much. (Really, he should've noticed sooner.)

* * *

'Something' ended up lounging in Percy's cabin. The kid had found some of the old comics Percy had shoved under his bed. He lit up like the fourth of July, “I know this one! I know this one!” It was some of the earlier Batman volumes. Now, Percy doesn't know how far back DC dates, but if Nico knew them, then it must be old.

But Percy had ever only bothered with looking at the pictures, appreciating the colors and the details. Not the actual plot, not the cute little phrases, not the development between characters. So Nico, exasperated and betrayed at his lack of dedication to the comics, read to him. And it was good. He did so many voices, got real into it, too. It was – fuck, it was adorable. There was a rosy hue to his cheeks the entire time – from excitement, joy, genuine happiness. It was a good way to spend the hours leading up to lunch.

So now they're here. Still in Percy's cabin, readying for their trip out to Camp Jupiter. “They should be having breakfast 'round now,” Nico mutters, “Since we have lunch in about an hour.” Nodding, Percy ties up his shoes, running a hand through his hair. “How long are we gonna be there for?” The son of Hades shrugs, “Half an hour, maybe. Hazel's gonna be busy and all. Just figured I'd drop in, say hi.” A pause. “Why? You want to go somewhere after?” Percy scratches at his head, “If it isn't too much.” The kid just smiles.

“I kinda want to see my mom, y'know? Haven't seen her in person since -” _Gods know_. That part is left unsaid, but the loneliness and yearning must seep into his voice, because Nico doesn't ask for anything else. He just nods, “Sure. I'll...drop you off? You can IM me, I'll come get you.”

Percy makes a noise, “Why don't you just come with me?” Doubt is evident by both the lack of answer and how the kid shrugs, hands stuffed into his pockets. He bumps shoulders, “C'mon, my mom loves you.” She does, too. “Always asks how you're doing, if you're eating, if you're okay whenever I IM her.” Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say. Nico shuffles, hunching up. Trying to be smaller.

Finally, he relents, “Okay, fine. If you don't want to, that's okay. But the option still stands, if you change your mind.” The kid gives him a grateful smile. He looks like a sad little boy again; wide eyes, worried. Percy forces a grin, “We going to see your sister or not?” It's like a change in tide. There's this quirked grin on Nico's face – Percy wonders if the kid turned into a mirror for a second, because there's the same heaviness sticking to his teeth and the denial glossy along the waterline of his eyes. They're more similar than they used to believe.

It's the same effect when Nico drags them into a shadow. That scalding hand in his, the building pressure of steam from a kettle behind his eyes and the feeling of the wind cutting his cheeks when they step back into the daylight. The ground materializes under their feet; Percy staggers, stomach churning. It settles after a moment.

“You good?”

“Yup. You?”

“Mhm. I'm.”

He doesn't finish. The older demigod doesn't ask him to. The grounds of Camp Jupiter are familiar, as they wander. The temples are visible just over the trees. It's louder, the chatter, the closer they get to the mess hall. Nico appears to be going more by feel than sight, because Percy can't see Hazel anywhere. Then suddenly she's directly in front of him, back turned as she sits at a table with Frank and Reyna.

Nico leaves his side, sneaking up with a grin. Reyna twitches – tensing up a little. “Nico.” Said kid stops in his tracks, shoulders slumping, “Wow, Rey. Thanks.” Hazel bursts out of her seat, throwing them both to he floor with the force of her hug, “Big brother!” Reyna turns, smirking. She looks up at Percy, nodding respectfully. Percy smiles, before looking down at the mess of siblings scrabbling to get up. Hazel seems content to just cling like a koala-bear, whilst her Greek brother actually manages to get to his feet. “Hey Hazel.”

Frank smiles, timid still, clearly unsure whether to advance or not. Nico has always managed to strike fear into that guy's heart. Maybe it's because he's dating Hazel. Who knows. What Percy does know is that he's lifted from the ground all at once, strong arms around him, “Hey Percy.” He laughs, “Hey Frank. How you doing?”

The praetor rests him down gently, “I'm doing good. Things are settling nicely.” Percy grins, “Good to hear, man. I'm glad.” They turn to the girls (plus one spicy Italian,) smiling. “ _That's_ where my hoodie went! Thief.” Reyna looks so proud, so fond, it's scary. Percy's never seen the gentle quirk of her smile, never seen her hug anybody to her like she does Hazel and Nico. It's good. It's pleasing; more proof that Nico has people to care for him when Percy can't.

“How's Camp Half-Blood?” Mars' son asks. He shrugs, “Eh. It's okay. The Big Three cabins have bathrooms now.” Frank chuckles, “Of course that's your first thing to say.” He raises an eyebrow, “What? Privacy has always been my main priority. I don't feel like showering half way across camp and awkwardly making it back to my cabin whilst wet.” Frank just smiles, shaking his head.

He turns back to the girls (plus one spicy Italian.) The kid looks happy. Proud, that's the word. Pride pulling him to life, able to make those cheesily big grins for Hazel whilst she tells him about all the improvements they've made to Camp Jupiter. Reyna adds in something every once in a while, but doesn't intrude. She keeps a firm hand clamped on his shoulder though. Gods – once again, Percy is reminded of how much Nico's grown. Not just physically (though still that, because fucking hell Nico's as tall as Reyna now.)

He doesn't look so scared anymore.

And, fuck, Percy's goddamn proud.

It goes like this for a while, passing Romans nodding their respect with a mutter of, “ _di Angelo_ ,” before continuing on. After another few minutes, Hazel snags Nico's sleeve and drags him off in the direction of Pluto's temple. Reyna hums, waving them away. She pauses, looking at him intensely. “Has he been okay?”

It takes him a minute, before reluctantly nodding, “I think so.” He doesn't tell her than Nico's been doing a good job at keeping him distracted from the younger demigod's wellbeing. But by the narrowing of her eyes, she already knows, “Jason told me he's been more social.” Percy makes a neither-here-nor-there sound, shrugging, “Mainly me and Jase. He doesn't really get on with anyone else.” Except Thalia. But Thalia's not around so much anymore.

Reyna nods, sharing a look with Frank. She nods at him – a dismissal. He returns to his table to eat his food. The Praetor then nods in another direction: _follow me_. Percy feels like a kid about to get scolded by the teacher, in all honesty. He should've been keeping a better eye on Nico, goddammit, and now he's starting to realize how much he should've been paying attention.

The Roman looks so much like Bianca in the next few seconds. Percy wants to cry in a corner. How she stares at her feet for a second, taking a readying breath as a hand plays with her braid. Fuck. He looks away from her, until she speaks up. Even then, he stares stubbornly at his sneakers.

“How is he doing?” Then the questions spill from her, like pressurized water from a hose; all at once. “Is he eating? Sleeping? How often has he been shadow-traveling? Does he need anything?” Percy sifts through the questions for a moment, before sighing heavily, “He's been eating okay. Trail-mix and McDonald's yesterday, toast this morning. I'm planning on dragging him to my mom's after this, so he'll be fed plenty.” She waits patiently, and through her stoic exterior, Percy can see _just_ how worried she's been.

“So, uh, on the shadow-traveling front? I'm not totally sure, but for the past few days we've been in and out of camp, so. But he's doing okay, I think; just tired, but.” He shrugs, helpless, “Night-terrors tend to do that to you.” Reyna nods, folding her arms across her chest, “Anything else? What about episodes?”

 _Episodes:_ what they've all started calling the delirious moments. It was coined by Annabeth, originally; because, in a sense, that's what was happening. Sudden anxiety and panic attacks, or just random spur-of-the-moment hysteria. Aftermath, trauma, whatever. It's not just Percy, Nico and Annabeth – but it hits the three of them the most. Percy wonders how she's doing; if she's okay, if she's got somebody to look after her out in New Rome.

The hesitation appeared to deter Reyna, since she allowed concern to finally seep through. Like paper soaking up water. “What about you, Percy? You look like you just fell out of a tumble-dryer.” He laughs, pathetically, “Kinda feels like it.” Clearing his throat, he shrugs, “Well, y'know. It's been okay; _I've_ been, okay, just relapsed a little yesterday.” Reyna nods, a firm hand on his shoulder. She smiles, “I'm glad you're okay.”

And, _man_ , Reyna smiling at you? It really makes you feel worth something. Like when Nico smiles at you, or his dad. Or his mom, because his mom has always made sure he felt _worth something_. And he's gonna get a bunch of her smiles later, if not a stern talking to about his _SPQR_ tattoo. Fuck.

His smile fades. He looks around, “C – Can I talk to you? About something. I just...” He shrugs, “I don't want to jump to conclusions, but -” Reyna nods, silently encouraging him to continue.

So Percy pulls out the blade. His blood runs cold, just feeling the steel in his hand. The tiny sharpener-blade. He's made sure it's in his pocket at all times, too afraid of what it could actually be about to just leave it out in his cabin. Reyna's caramel eyes widen a little.

Swallowing thickly, Percy looks around again. Nobody's paying close attention to them, too far away. “I – it was in Nico's drawer.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “I was looking for pajamas or something, yesterday, 'cus he fell asleep with me and Jase. But then I...” He holds the blade up a little more. It glints in the sun.

“Like I said, I don't want to assume.” Reyna delicately takes it from his hands, running her fingers along the edge, “Pencil sharpener, right?” He nods. His stomach twists horrendously; like a roller-coaster, his heart thumping too fast. Next thing he knows, it's leaped into his throat.

“Maybe it's best to actually talk to him about it.” She sighs. Percy nods, “W-When? Because, y'know, I don't think right out in the mess hall is really the best way forward.” Reyna manages a smirk, “I agree. C'mon, let's go find him.” She pockets the blade. At least it's not in his hands anymore.

Temptation has always been a weak point for him.

Who knows what messes he would've gotten into.

The walk is quiet between them, terse and brusque. It reminds Percy of when a river hits a hard bend, slamming abruptly and sloshing over the bank. In a sense, it's like his emotions running rapid. “Do -” He clears his throat, “Do you think it – it might not be best to...talk to him about it in front of Hazel?” Reyna comes to a halt; unreadable. The daughter of Bellona cautiously pulls the blade from her pocket, “...Perhaps it'd be better for you to confront him in private.” Her fierce eyes meet his; calm, but determined, “Where he's safe, accepted.”

The meaning was clear:

Confront him at Sally's.

He sighs, before nodding, “Yeah. Yeah,” He nods again, “Okay.” Reyna nods, handing the little sharpener-blade back to him. Back in his pocket it goes: left to burn a hole there. Before he knows it, they're nearing the steps to Pluto's temple. It nearly glitters in the morning sun.

Two silhouettes can be made out inside the structure. Marbled walls, gemstones gleaming prettily from their places infused into the stone. Hazel's laughter echoes like the ghost of something to be revered, Percy can't help but think, the undertones of Nico's kind chuckle nothing more than whispers. Like the streams through camp; noisy, rushing currents with mellow, dragging undertows.

Reyna fixes an easy smile. He tries to follow suit, the closer they get. Though, he's thankful that whilst there's enough daylight to reflect the glossy surfaces of the temple, it's not enough for anybody to closely examine facial expressions. Unless the children of the Underworld have enhanced sight in the dark. Then he's fucked.

“Oh, hey guys!” Hazel bounces up from where they stood near the altar. It's a pretty thing; encrusted with jewels, trimmed with gold. Nico remains by it, wiry hands brushing along the edge of the altar. “Hello,” The Roman hums, looking as calm and collected as ever. Percy feels his palms being to get clammy. The son of Hades finally looks up. Immediately, he frowns. Yikes. It makes him wonder if Nico can feel the nerves coming off of him better than Hazel can.

“Hi,” He mutters weakly. The look both Reyna and Nico shoot at him over Hazel's head say that he isn't succeeding in 'playing it cool'. Hazel doesn't seem to mind, too busy regaling Percy about what Nico and her were talking about. Apparently Nico had told her about them heading out to McDonald's yesterday, and she's very happy that he managed to get Nico out for some fresh air.

The rest of their time there, Nico kept giving him curious looks.

Percy tried his best to not appear furtive. It didn't work so well.

* * *

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Hazel sighs, sounding muffled from where she buries her head in Nico's shoulder. Nico chuckles, “Unfortunately. I'll come visit again.” The smaller demigod pulls back, giving him a pointed look, “Soon?” The son of Hades shrugs, “We'll see.” Percy chuckles, “My mom's expecting us to show up soon, Hazel, otherwise I'd say we could stay longer.” Frank holds Hazel's hand when she pulls away. Reyna smirks, arms folded across her chest, “Besides, don't you have friends to go visit in New Rome today?”

Hazel whines, “Annabeth would understand!” Percy swallows around the tightness in his chest, the sinking feeling in his stomach intensifies. She quietens a minute after, golden eyes wide. Wincing sympathetically, she mutters, “Sorry – that's still a sore subject, right? I didn't mean to -”

He forces out a chuckle, lax as he can make himself, “You can talk about her, y'know. It's not like talking about Annabeth around me is, like, Timbuktu or something.” Frank snorts, shoving him jovially, “I think you mean _taboo_ , Seaweed Brain.” Huffing, he rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

The daughter of Pluto trots over to her brother once more, squeezing him tight before pecking his cheek, “You better IM me later.” Nico crosses his heart, “I will.” Notice: not _promise_. As horrible as Percy feels for it, it makes him feel special. Perhaps 'promise' will be their always, a cheesy part of him mulls quietly. Stepping away, the kid makes his way over to Percy and Reyna, “I'll see you 'round, Rey.” She nods, smirk softening in the same fashion that Nico's own does, inclining her head respectfully, “I'm counting on it.”

With that, the kid raises an eyebrow at him: _are you ready?_ Percy spares one more look with Reyna before clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah. I'll see you guys at some point, maybe.” Frank winks, grinning, “Soon.” Hazel straightens herself up, only coming up to Nico's shoulder, “Soon! I mean it!” Percy remembers when she used to be that little bit taller than Nico, when she was fresh from Asphodel and he didn't know who he was anymore. But it looks like Nico's beaten her at a race she wasn't aware about; growing up.

“Yeah, yeah.” The kid sounds tired, but the fondness doesn't disappear until Percy's world turns dark and he can't see anything. When they emerge, Percy ignores the dull throb in his stomach, churning weakly like water down the drain.

The blaring traffic of New York greets him; yellow taxi cabs, road-raging drivers, busy bodies swarming the sidewalk. Beside him, Nico whines into his hands. He looks over to the kid, finding him scrubbing at his face irritably. Man, he looks tired. Maybe Percy shouldn't have dragged Nico around the country today. Oh well; they're here now. “You good?” He asks. Nico nods quietly.

The gut-clenching feeling comes back. The fact that Percy will have to confront the kid later only makes his stomach cave in on itself more. Like when heavy rocks fall into a lake. _Splunk_. “What about you?” For a moment, he has no fucking clue what Nico was asking, until sloshing ocean meets cavernous dark, and it clicks. “I'm good,” He smiles.

The kid nods, pushing himself from the wall, “Lead the way.” Percy looks around quickly; not too far from his mom's new house. It's this cute little thing on the outskirt of the city, further away from all the mess. Suburbia, that's the word. A place that Percy didn't grow up in. A place safe for kids to play out on the sidewalk, the neighbors all know each other and invite families for dinners on Sundays. He's not sure if he missed out or dodged a bullet. Makes him wonder, sometimes. But his mom's happy, so he's happy. Paul does her good, too.

He looks back to the son of Hades, finding the kid getting himself lost in the people. He just looks like an ordinary boy; messy hair, dark clothes, pierced ears and a muted expression. Nothing more than your average highschooler, if that. Like puddles drain into the grates, the question seeps through his teeth, “Have you ever thought of going back to school?”

Nico shakes his head immediately. Apparently he's not thrown off by the question. “No.” Nico looks a little scornful as he says it, something sparking like flint and steel in his expression. Percy feels like his question set Nico just seconds away from demolishing Manhattan to Montauk. “It just – it wouldn't work, y'know?” The kid tugs on the drawstrings of Reyna's hoodie, distracted a little. His eyebrows furrow in concentration; consternation. “I know enough to get me by, and whatever I had enough of an interest in to learn more about.” There's a pause, a long, painful pause that Percy really doesn't know how to salvage until the kid mutters.

“That's all I need. Right?”

The kid sounds so lost.

Scared, almost, and Percy can maybe understand. A little bit. “Yeah,” He says, this sort of hiss like when steam is released from those old pot kettles. The second part is quieter, “Maybe.” Because in all honesty he's not so sure himself, the same uncertainty that bashes rocks together like attrition in the kid's gut simmering like scalding springs in his own. Maybe. It's better than _no_ and falling to pieces with a lack of knowledge that Annabeth would have pinned. His heart clenches.

There's no response, just heavy boots scuffing concrete as they head for the mouth of the alley. Percy follows him, before smoothly taking the lead. Okay, it's not that smooth, but it's a silent transition of follow the leader, and it's funny really, because he always ends up being the fucking leader with the reins in his trembling hands whilst his mind rushes thousands of miles an hour hopelessly whilst he trips over his own will to be alive. Which is essentially like tripping over nothing. And that's what makes him clench his jaw, leveling a bewildered look at the back of Nico's boots.

They're leather, of course, the good-quality vintage kind that Percy wishes he could afford. Black laces, black soles, the yellow _Air Wair_ tag on the back of them. “Where'd you get them?” Floods from his mouth like the floodgates of a dam wrenching open. The son of Hades doesn't stop, doesn't miss a beat; Percy's really starting to wonder if this kid is a mind-reader. “Birthday present from Thanatos.” It's weird to think of the death angel gifting Nico with something, but then again, not so much. “Huh. How's he doing, anyways?”

“A little busy.”

“But okay?”

“But okay.”

That's that.

Percy finally wills himself to match pace with Nico, steering them down a couple streets until the traffic dies down and peaceful houses start appearing. They're small clusters, not quite fitting in with the New York bustle, but it's a nice little place. A cul-de-sac of sorts. His mother's house is the one in the middle of being painted a soft shade of blue. It's the type of blue that reminds you of _it's a boy_ birthday cards, the gentleness of nurturing but with the solidity of a stable home. It makes something warm bloom in his chest.

It's not quite finished yet, with protective tape around the windows' plaster and seals, a step ladder leading up to the awning above the first story in order for access to the second floor. There's a familiar pair bickering fondly between them; clothes specked blue, white with paint and hair peppered a well-earned gray in some places. “Mom!” Percy calls, picking up the pace.

For a moment, he doesn't register Nico's steps slowing, dragging along the sidewalk. He's too busy watching h is mother turn, smile bright and surprised on her face, a thick paintbrush in her hand, “Percy!” Paul's chuckle rings loud and clear, the disbelieving laughter of the adults sounding like safety personified, “Hi.” That's all he can get out, a simple _hi_ , because this is his mother and she's got a barely noticeable swell to her stomach that can only mean one thing and he is _all fucking for it._

Sally had told him about his little sibling. In their last IM, over a month ago now, and gods he hadn't understood the gravity of the situation up until now. Still, he is all for it. This tiny little thing will be something to cherish; this mortal baby, this soft bundle of limbs and gurgles, this _normal baby_ is going to be Percy's sibling. He can't wait.

Worn, weathered hands rest on his cheeks, bring him close for chapped lips to press motherly kisses all over his face, “I've missed you so much! So much, you have no idea.” Paul's warm hand claps onto his shoulder, jostling him fondly, “It's good to see you.” Safe. Alive. Here. He nods, laughter breathless from his mouth, years falling from his shoulders that shouldn't have been there to begin with.

“Is that Nico?” His mom's question brings him back to the present. He turns, looking for the kid. Nico's half-way into the shadows cast by the porch, looking smaller, smaller, smaller. So he nods, beckoning the kid over. Like reeling in a fish, coaxing his prize closer with the promise of bait. Bait in question? Love. A whole lot of love, a good sandwich, Sally's smothering and good-natured coddling. He looks hesitant, shifting his weight, “I don't want to intrude -”

“Nico, honey, come here. I haven't seen you in ages.” There's no arguing Sally Jackson. And maybe his mother has always been a better fisherman than Percy, in all honesty. Always has the right bait on hand, perceptive enough to understand that maybe a fish wants a different kind of bait than what is being offered.

So the kid shuffles from the shadows, about as close to a kicked puppy as Nico di Angelo can get. Pride bursts in his chest, like a popped water balloon, when Sally grins wide and wrangles the kid into the hug. Paul hasn't said a word, but he's being polite. He has the feeling that Paul has some questions concerning this kid. Understandable. His step-dad's never met Nico, doesn't understand the history, the chemistry, the biology of their bond. That's okay. That's okay, he thinks, Paul will understand soon. There's no denying Nico di Angelo.

Just like there's no denying his mom.

Just like there's no denying Annabeth.

(ouch.)

Sally smacks kisses all over the both of them, this time, pulling away to look the pair of them up and down. She furrows her eyebrows a little. Her mouth pinches as the woman assesses them. “How about some lunch, guys? Me and Paul were about to take a lunch break anyway.” Percy grins at the idea, looking to Paul. It's hard to read the man's gaze on Nico; it's calculating, of course, and predictably suspicious. But he tenses, because nobody needs to look at Nico like that, so he slings an arm around the kid's shoulder and follows his mom inside.

“How've you been, ma?” He looks around the house. Upon entry, you walk into a living space on the right, a kitchen further back, with a simple staircase on the left. Furniture looks new; a plump-looking couch and matching circular ottoman. A polished, wooden coffee table, television and stand situated in front of the windows the peer out. There's a space between, where the bookshelf is. A hulking, worn thing that adds more character to the house. A lot of the floors have newspaper around the walls, more protective masking tape with stray paint buckets and brushes. The walls are bar for now; Percy can see framed photos and such stacked neatly against the side of the couch, along with other accessories and decorations. It's cute. Domestic.

“I've been fine, honey,” She calls from the kitchen, already bustling around with the cutting board and a couple plates. “Sorry about the mess – we're giving this place a bit of a makeover, that's all.” He grins, looking back to where Nico lingers by the doorway. Paul has migrated to the bookshelf, picking up an old novel with a frayed spine. “It's fine.” He grabs the kid's hand, kindly leading him into the kitchen, where he then leans against the countertops. “The place is looking great, seriously.”

The son of Hades toys with the drawstrings of Reyna's hoodie, but he doesn't look anxious. He's just enjoying the sun through the window. It only hardens the edges of him, accentuates those cutting shadows, makes his eyelashes look like wild curls of thorns resting on his cheeks, but that's okay. The sun paints him glitter and gold, a strong yellow that reminds him of starfish and golden beaches. Maybe this is the potential singing inside Nico, if he had been a son of Pluto rather than Hades. Reflecting the riches he could have been born into, rather than the hollowness that greets him so many miles below.

Yellow is a pretty color on Nico.

Biased, he thinks blue is better.

He supposes that doesn't matter, really, because Percy's always known Nico to make anything look pretty. Blue or yellow, rags or riches, life or death. It doesn't matter. Nico makes anything look pretty, in a way that Annabeth just _can't._ Maybe that's why Percy can never find fault in the boy's wild hair, the vacant emptiness where a joke should be.

“Nico, what have you been up to? Last time I heard, you were helping you father downstairs.” _Downstairs_ , because his mother picks up on the terminology that Percy picked up from Nico, who picked it up from the kingdom that awaits him _downstairs._ The kid shrugs a little, smoothly blinking out of his reverie with nothing more than a shy little smile, “Oh, nothing much.” After a pause, he continues. As he talks, Percy loses himself a little. His mother's always had this affect on people, the tension draining from them like a wash-cloth wrung out. Good at casting her rod and reeling in what she was looking for.

“Thanatos has a handle on things now, and -” He clears his throat a little, “Well, I figured folks back home would like to know I'm still breathing, so.” Percy snaps his head to look at him; eyes wide, mouth open in an almost-shout, like he can't believe what he just heard. It's deja vu when he mutters, “Folks?” Sally raises an eyebrow, genuinely interested. Nico nods, shoving Percy a little with that same small grin, “We've been over this. Family.” It's a stray thought that comes to mind; he wants to be a part of that family.

There's silence for a long stretch of seconds, before Sally smiles, “I'm glad you've found your home, Nico. Really, I am. You've both grown up so much, it's good to see that you've got somewhere.” The kid nods, dark eyes swallowing the sun that still shines valiantly. Instinctively, Percy leans against him. It will never cease to surprise him, the fact that the kid can handle his weight.

Paul finally comes into the kitchen, stealing a slice of tomato from the cutting board, “So how long are you guys planning on sticking around?” Percy shrugs, glancing to the kid. He looks tired, but he's content. Dark eyes meet his, clear with the confirmation of: _whatever you want_. (Really, he should've noticed sooner.)

So he shrugs, “Dunno. Just thought we'd stop by. We can leave, if it's -” Sally pecks his cheek, ruffling his hair, “None of that. Stay as long as you need.” She throws a pointed look to Nico, then back to her son. “You both look like you could use some rest.” He rubs his eye absently, biting back the yawn that rises with the comment, “Maybe. Don't want to get in the way -”

“No such thing,” Paul soothes, ruffling his hair as he moves to grab bread from on top of the fridge. “It's good to see you, and we mean it.” It takes Percy a moment to register that his friend is full-on leaning into him, quite and breathing steadily. He wraps his arm around tighter. It never occurred to him how reassuring it is to have Nico at his side – where Percy can see the kid, keep an eye on him, know that he's alive.

Percy smiles, nodding, “Yeah. It's good to see you too.” Paul leans against the countertop, eying the pair of them, “How's Annabeth?” Three things happen at once. His throat closes up like when a dam clogs a river. His mouth dries up like a sudden drought. His stomach clenches taughtly and the kitchen sink's faucet starts drooling water despite it not being turned on. His mother immediately senses something wrong, before either three of these things could happen. Maybe it was the look on his face, or the prolonged stillness in wait of his answer. He feels lost, in this moment. He feels like crying again, but he spent the hours pre-breakup crying untl his throat was raw, and since then, Nico's been doing a good job and making him smile.

So, reasonably, he glances at Nico. The kid doesn't offer anything more than a shrug. A clear and easy: _your call_. And it is, huh? It _is_ his call. His ex-girlfriend. His choice.

His mom. Who deserves to know. Sighing, Percy shrugs, running a hand through his hair, “We, uh. We broke up.” Paul's face falls, just shying pity, whilst his mother keeps a carefully sympathetic look. “Oh honey, I'm sorry to hear that.” He shrugs again, “Kinda...was kinda waiting for it to happen, I guess.” He wasn't. Annabeth was. Like always, he went with what Annabeth thought, because – gods, she deserves the world. And if that means she gets that world by herself, then fine.

“I'm just...she's happy, so.” Paul clears his throat, “But are you happy?” He feels Nico shrink in his arms; this uncertainty coming from him in waves. He squeezes Nico tighter, to his side. Looking down at Nico – uncharacteristically sun-soaked, the bright light not being reflected, but swallowed in his eyes. Consumed by fear, anguish, loneliness. An empty ache, voracious eyes hungry for more and more, in need of something. An ancient-old yearning for something to make him cry. Nico looks at him like he's already found that something.

(Really, he should've noticed sooner.)

“Yeah.” The answer had clung to his teeth like forming barnacles, but it's good to get it out. Nico gives him that miniscule little smile that brings out those dimples, and this is what Percy lives for. He's gotta be careful, mindful; this is Nico, who he lives for more than he ever did anybody but his mother, “Yeah. I'm happy.” Not that _I'm happy she's happy_ bullshit.

Sally smiles, nudging plates at them, “That's good to hear. If you need to talk, we're here for you honey.” This is why his mom is the best. Percy looks down at his sandwich; cut off crust, cut into triangles, ham, tomato and lettuce. He grins, “Thanks ma.” The woman ushers them all into the living room, seating herself on the end of the couch, closest to the ottoman. Paul sits beside her, Percy sitting on the plush foot-rest. Nico flops down on the floor beside him, resting his plate on the coffee table.

Paul raises an eyebrow, “There's plenty of space here -” Nico shakes his head, “It's fine.” Percy glances down at his hair. He's curled up between the coffee table and Percy, looking small. Then it clicks. He's shy around Paul. Aww. Cute. “You okay?” He mouths. Nico blinks at him, before nodding.

Sally chuckles around a cup of orange juice. Maybe it magically appeared in her hands, who knows. Mom Magic TM. “So how's the last few days been, hm? Been on any...adventures?” Her voice sours a little bit, motherly disdain smothered by another sip. Percy snorts, still smiling, “It's been...pretty good, actually.” He chomps into his sandwich. Home. Love. He grins, “Amb yestherbay we -” He chokes, swallowing his mouthful and starting again, “Yesterday we went out and had McDonald's. That was fun.”

Paul raises an eyebrow, “I thought Chiron didn't let you guys out of camp.” He shrugs, “If you get permission.” Sally snorted, “Did you?” The amusement on her face was enough to say that she knew he didn't. Proudly, he shakes his head, “Nope! Nico shadow'd us out, so.” His step-dad furrows his eyebrows, “Shadow'd?”

Nico nods a little, reminding the man that he was in fact in the room. Percy bites back a chuckle. It's so easy for the kid to just make himself forgotten. The chuckle is easier to bite back after that. Sobering.

“It's shadow-travel. I'm able to walk through shadows from one location to another, if I can envision it.” Percy beams proudly, clapping a firm hand on Nico's shoulder, “He's good at it, too! He can go from New York to California without much trouble, now.” Nico scratches his neck, looking away stubbornly. He grins, “Aww, did I embarrass you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He nods.

“Maybe.”

His mom laughs again, that pretty sound Percy drinks up like nectar, “What about you sister? How's she doing?” For a moment, Nico stares at her, blank. It's a split-second reaction, but he shrugs, “Hazel's okay. She's feeling more at home, now that the war -” He huffs, “Now that everything's settled. I'm actually waiting for Frank to man up and propose, but still.” Percy snickers at that, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, but if he asks for your blessing, you gotta make sure you don't scare him to death.” Nico pulls out a coy pout, “What do you mean?”

His heart squeezes painfully.

He forget's Nico's still a kid.

Objectively, he thinks of Nico like a kid. But a kid _his_ age; not small and sixteen-going-on-seventeen and technically a highschool drop-out. Or not, since he never went to highschool in the first place. The pout only makes his heart squeeze more.

Brushing it off, he smiles, “You know exactly what I mean.” Nico huffs, defeated, taking a vengeful bite out of his sandwich. Percy glances down at his plate; empty, nothing but crumbs. Nico's only made it through half his first slice. That's okay. He'll make sure Nico eats the rest of it.

Sally stares at the two of them fondly. Percy winks at her, “When's the baby due, anyways?” It looks like the two adults had forgotten, for a moment, before she smiles wide and drums her fingers on her barely-there baby bump, “Still a couple months. Around February, they said.” Paul straightens his shoulders, ever the proud and loving husband, “They told us it's going to be a little girl.”

Percy feels like he's going to turn to mush. There's a silence after those words, where he just marvels in the news, blinking rapidly as if it's all an illusion. He'l wake back up in his cabin, not be here, be back in Camp Half-Blood and learn that nobody had been there since the beginning.

“What are you going to call her?” Nico looks a little bigger, when he looks at Sally. His mom does that to people. Makes them comfortable, confident. Unafraid, unabashed. It only makes Percy smile wider. Sally hums, sharing a look with Paul, “We were thinking Hannah or...Estelle.” Percy's would-have-been grandmother. He hums softly, glancing at Nico. He's looking in wonder, and Percy wonders if Nico can sense the little life in his mom's womb. In sync, they mutter, “Estelle's a great name.”

The room is warm. It's so warm, so fluffy, so soft and everything Percy ever wanted. This is good. This is what his little sister is growing to grow up in. What Percy never had, and it's all he could ever dream of for this little girl. “I guess that's our decision made,” His step-dad smiles. Sally nods, “Estelle it is.”

To Percy, Nico tugs on his jacket and pulls him down. Quietly, he whispers, “She's got a strong heartbeat, already.” The news make his face feel like it's going to split, “Oh yeah? Makes sense.” Nico nods, looking like he knew exactly what Percy was talking about, “She's gonna be your mom's daughter. Just like you're her son.” And maybe that's the best thing somebody's ever said to him. Maybe it is, y'know, being told that he's as strong as his mother, as kind as her, anything like her at all. It makes him feel like crying. But he doesn't, just meets his mother's soft eyes with an odd vulnerability he wouldn't have been able to relax into with Annabeth here.

A yawn breaks through the tranquility. He doesn't know if it was him or Nico, but after, the kid thumped his head on Percy's thigh. He sighs, nudging Nico, “Eat your sandwich, bud.” The kid blindly grabs for his sandwich, curling up with it as he munches slowly. Sally hums, “I can get the guest room ready for you two.” Paul hums, watching the pair (Nico) wearily. Percy is about to nod with a thank you, but Nico sits up, “I don't want to be a bother. I can stay awa -” He yawns.

Percy rubs his eyes, “Yeah, but I can't.” He can, probably. Sally stands, patting her thighs with a smile. She looks to Nico, kind, “It's not a problem, really. C'mon, you can help me get the spare bed ready if you want.” Nico stands up – stumbling a little – before he strolls after her. Percy can hear the start of easy conversation.

He grabs the plates (Nico did end up finishing his sandwich, thank gods,) and takes them into the kitchen. Paul looks a little contemplative when he trails after him, “So what's going on with Nico, anyways?” Right. Paul's never actually met Nico. No wonder he'd be curious.

Turning the faucet, he jams in the plug and squirts some dish soap into the sink. He dumps his and Nico's plates into the sink, along with the few cups that had been left on the coffee table. “What do you mean?” The man grabs a dish towel and dries off the plate Percy hands to him. “Is he normally that closed off?” Then he corrects himself a little, “I understand if he's shy, just.” He sounds concerned, and Percy's glad it's actually, genuine concern rather than something like 'is something wrong with him?' So he shrugs, trying to get the simmering protectiveness to settle in his stomach. “Nico's...” He nods, “Yeah, he's shy. Sometimes. Well -” Clearing his throat, he waves his hand a little, “Not _shy_ , just...careful.” Because he is. Careful, that is.

Quietly, he continues, “He's had it a little rough – y'know, we all have, and I think he's just a little more...” A little more what? Vigilant? Untrusting? “He looks out for the rest of us. You're new,” He looks to Paul, who doesn't look all that offended. The only reason there's an intensity to him is because that's the look he gets when he's trying to work out something. “So, y'know, it's not just me he's trying to look out for. He's looking out for mom too. Nico doesn't know you very well, so he's staying back and just observing.”

Paul runs a hand through his graying hair, sighing, “How do I get him to...” Percy raises an eyebrow, “Trust you?” The man nods. He smiles, “Just do your thing. You like reading – Nico does, too, y'know. Comics, mostly, but still.” His step-dad chuckles, “I wonder how you two get along.” He's got a point there.

Still, his chuckle is humorless. “Yeah, well. It's taken a while.” He passes the man the last cup, before wiping his hands on his jeans. Stifling a yawn, he sighs heavily. There must be some sort of expression on his face, because Paul rests a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay? You look worried.” Percy shrugs a little, “I...” Should he tell him? He's already told Reyna, and he has a feeling getting more people involved is going to make it worse. But, gods, he hates secrets.

“How do you confront somebody who you think may be hurting themselves?” Silence. The water's leaking from the faucet again, the pipes whining with his panic. The sun gets blotted out, through the window. Paul sighs heavily, and he can imagine the man adjusting his glasses, “That's...wow.” He turns Percy to face him, “How long's that been on your chest, huh?”

Percy jerkily shoves his hands in his pockets. The cold metal blade brushes against his fingers. A chill creeps up his spine. “I found a – a _thing_ , yesterday, and...I'm worried.” Scared, actually. Terrified, because what if Nico is _doing it_ and he's let the kid down again? Fuck.

The man hums, “I can't really give you anything to work with. It's different with everybody.” He sighs, yanking his hands out of his pockets, “Damn.” The stairs creak as two familiar people make their way back down. Percy takes a second to gather himself, before turning with a smile. His mom and friend are talking, still, but Nico's not so easy-going anymore. As they near, dark eyes look hard at him, to the gray sky out the window, and back.

He just makes a waving motion with his hands. Waving it off. He'll tackle it later. Sally smiles, “Bedroom's ready, if you two want to head up. Me and Paul will be out painting the house if you need anything.” With that, they're left alone. Paul mouths _good luck_ before shutting the door.

Nico nudges him, “You okay?” He nods, “Peachy.” He rubs his eye with a curled fist, humming, “C'mon, then.” he follows after the kid numbly, mind whirling. They reach the stairs. They're simple ply-wood, with a finished railing and a carpet trail that looks nice. “Hey Nico?” He gets a hum in response.

The upstairs has a hallway with three doors. One's the bathroom, the master bedroom, and presumably the guest bedroom. Nico guides him to the door at the very end. Inside, the blinds are white, with a navy single-chaise under the window. There's a little, round table with a stool next to it. It's clear that right now, this room doesn't have much to work with. He thinks it'll probably become Estelle's room in future. For now, it's bare.

There's some folded blankets and pillow resting on the chaise, with a little sleeping bag on the floor. Nico's boots are by it; along with his sword. Percy smiles softly, before frowning, “Why are you on the floor?” The kid shrugs, “You said you were tired, so you get the lounge chair.” A glorified lounge chair. “No, it's fine. I'll have the sleeping bag. You need your sleep.” Scoffing, the kid narrows his eyes at him.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are _you_ so stubborn?”

They stare at each other for a moment. Nico, still staring at Percy, walks over to the sleeping-bag and wriggles himself into it before zipping it up. Scowling, he stares down at the kid. The son of Hades curls up, pulling the hood of Reyna's hoodie over his head, “Go sleep.” He has a feeling Nico's more tired than he's letting on. Okay.

“I will, if I can talk to you about something first.” His stomach drops a little; like rocks into the water. _Splunk_. It would've been comical, how Nico peers at him over the sleeping-bag, if not for the gravity of his words. “What's up?” Percy shuffles, sitting beside him on the floor. Before he can think through a script, he blurts out:

“You'd tell me, if something was wrong, right?”

A stunned silence mutes out his heartbeat.

And there's that look in Nico's eyes again, that awe-inducing fear, the _does he know?_ It makes Percy feel sick. So, rambling, he jerks a little, “Just, y'know, uh. I'm – I...” Blindly, he fumbles with the tiny little source of his confrontational anxiety, holding it up for Nico to see. The blade. He doesn't look at Nico, just the blade. “I found it, in your cabin. I'm just...” Scared. “Worried.”

When enough courage is gathered, he glances over to the son of Hades. He looks like he just saw his mother. It's not a good look. Cat must have Nico's tongue, because he works his mouth. No sound comes out. Gods, Percy can't look away, now.

His eyes start glossing over, pupils like pinpricks, and he can only guess how hard Nico's heart must be beating. He looks _terrified_. “It's -” It's not okay, but he doesn't know what else to say – “It's okay, don't panic, okay?” Nico bites his lip, as if keeping back something. Confessions, maybe. Maybe not.

“Whe – where did you find it?” Percy swallows around his want to just coddle the boy stupid, “I – that drawer, with your pencil case. I was looking for pajamas, and.” He doesn't need to finish. Nico releases a shaky sigh, fingers digging into his jeans, “Guess...guess it is sorta weird.” Percy hums quietly, “So..are you – do you...?” He gently places the little sharpener-blade on the floor between them.

Instead of answering, Nico looks away, “You'll hate me.” What? Percy shakes his head, “No, I wont. I wont hate you.” ~~_I can't_~~. The son of Hades shakes his head, “You will.” Whilst he's not vocally confirming it, that alone is admitting to what Percy is asking. Soft, so soft, in that way Percy never recognizes himself in, he wraps an arm around Nico, “I promise, Nico. I wont hate you.” Another deep breath. It sounds like glass breaking.

“Sometimes.” Nico hides his face in his hands, “I just – gods, _I fucking hate it_.” Percy waits quietly. What he doesn't expect is for the kid to tug up his sleeves. Right there; thin, pink lines from the crook of his elbow. They're not much, but it still makes Percy want to cry in a corner. His best friend cuts himself. It's hard, trying to let it sink in. Nico falls into a loose babble, not entirely coherent. “I – I just...numb, I get numb, and I hate it. That's all. I hate it. I want to feel something, so, so I...I...” He shakes his head, “I shouldn't be worrying you with this.” _That's_ the comment that snaps Percy into action. “You should be.” Nico gives him a look, doubtful, but it looks more miserable and sad with the held-back tears.

“I shouldn't,” The kid goes, “You've got enough on your plate, and -”

“And I want to be there for you.” Percy hugs him tight, “I do, really.”

Gods, he looks so uncertain, it isn't fair. It isn't! This kid, _his fucking best friend_ that he _lives for_ , feels bad enough to fucking try and cut himself to feel something. So Percy picks up the blade and shoves it back in his pocket, dragging the pair of them up onto the chaise. Nico appears deaf to him, murmuring to himself, “I bet you hate me, gods you fucking hate me now, don't you? Makes sense, really, fuck, you're gonna leave, you're gonna -”

Percy lays down against the raised arm of the chaise, kicking up the blanket folded on the end. He catches a corner of it, pulling it over the pair of them, “I'm not leaving.” With watery eyes – red-rimmed and bloodshot – Nico looks up at him. “Promise?” Percy nods, “Promise.” Tentatively, the kid holds out his pinky finger. Something flutters in his chest; a warm ooze despite the guilt and loathing eating away at his gut, like corrosive acids from the Acheron.

Apparently this exchange is enough for Nico's eyes to start drooping. “I'm sorry,” He whispers, sinking into the plush fabric of the chaise. Percy tucks him in, not really minding that the kid leans heavily on him. He had been feeling tired before; all for snoozing for an hour. Something tells him that's not going to happen any time soon. There's this distinct feeling that maybe Nico wasn't as secured on Percy's hook as he thought. Looks like Percy's going to have to try and lure Nico back in another way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup, i went there. hate me? join the club


	3. shakespeare references

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but literally there were too many willy shakes quotes/references-to-quotes for me to fit into the end note (5k character limit, including all the HTML and shit for format) so like maybe if you see what you think might be a shitty quote/reference-to-a-quote, feel free to comment, i guess. or not. i don't really mind. this sucks. i suck. sorry. also sorry this took so fucking long but i did the stupid thing again where i forgot i was the author?? so there's that.
> 
> uhhhh yeah plus there's a shit ton more of quotes to make up for the lack of fishing metaphors in the prev chapter, so in the not below it's only like the major quotations i shoved down there (the ones I think have more relevance than the others) so if you don't see many of them that's okay.

Two days went by. Two days of Percy gently prodding at him, being that loving puppy he is and lavishing him with more attention than Nico's ever experienced in a week stuck with Hazel. It makes his stomach clench every time those expressive eyes flit to him in a conversation. Jason will be talking about something with Piper, Leo emerging from his hobbit hole fuck-knows-where for the first time in maybe three days and Percy will laugh. A hearty sort of laugh that falls on a hollow note, but Nico gets it.

Love is such sweet sorrow and whatever. But that's not the right context, because that would only apply if Annabeth and Percy were still together. That's a thing that a lot of people get wrong; they forget that it's actually about the fact that whilst it's hurting to leave now, Juliet can't help but smile at the idea of seeing Romeo again. Even then, it's _parting_ is such sweet sorrow, so he's already off the fucking mark by two syllables.

But the thing is, Percy, all busy with his friends all the way across the pavilion? He still looks over at meal times, but he's distancing himself. Nico knew this would happen. _Fuck_. Open up too much, and people realize your insides are rotting. Not flowers, not an array of endless colors. Just a grotesque mess of year-old innards. Idly, he plays with the sleeves of Reyna's hoodie. He hadn't given back to her, like he'd wanted to. It was weird – he saw less of Reyna than he had wanted to. Sure, Hazel's great and all, but Nico had...actually wanted to talk to her about something.

He ended up talking about that something with Percy.

And he hasn't talked to the son of Poseidon since.

So things are going great. Nico picks at his plate; another nutty mess, like on the day Percy came over and offered company. He smiles – small, wry. It's nothing too pretty, so attractive enough to have people get blinded. Just that grim little smile he does; grit, grime, dirt between his teeth like it is beneath his nails. A reminder that he'll be returning to the soil from whence he came. A dour thought.

The sun, soft on the horizon, reminds him of metal heating enough to _melt_. Smolder, burn blazing hues of red and unimaginable shades of intensity. That's what the sun is like. And he hates it. Maybe more than he can hate his roots, so alike with how the rising sun in how he fucking hates it.

Familiar footfalls make their way to him. Glancing around, he finds that campers are leaving their tables, dispersing beyond his peripherals. “Hey bud,” Percy smiles, sitting beside him. He looks so soft. Gentle, caring, open. Gods, he wants to punch him. “Hey Perce.” The son of Poseidon cocks his head, hums something low and baritone in his chest, “How you doing?” _Are you okay?_ Nico's as fine as the peach is ripe. “Peachy.” If Percy catches onto the fact that Nico just threw the dude's own words in his face, then Percy has become a master of facades.

“That's good to hear,” Percy says. He sounds breathless. For a moment, Nico worries he's falling into another episode, but really that's all Nico ever really worries about anymore. Percy, that is. Nico only ever worries about Percy and last time he checked? It's not that healthy. Obsessing over something.

Green eyes sparkle in the morning sun. They dazzle like emeralds, like the honeysuckle dew growing new the Demeter Cabin. Or, more prone to his character, the ocean waves out where the water meets the skyline and it's a glistening, blinding mess of rippling light. That's what Percy's eyes are like, and he hates the guy for it. It's not fair. It's not. How good he looks, how he just looks _right_ in the sun, whilst Nico feels like the sun just illuminates his unnaturalness.

Maybe he's biased.

He knows he's not.

“You busy today?” The son of Poseidon asks. He knows he's reading too far into it when he thinks he hears hope in Percy's voice. So Nico shrugs, hoping that the yearning doesn't break through, “Not really.” It does. The desperation clatters at the back of his throat like gravel raking against his insides. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jason throws him an encouraging look across the pavilion. Nico ignores him.

Turning to Percy, he finds the guy with a soft smile. Tentative, almost. “So...would you like to come to the lake with me? Y'know, we can just go and talk...hang out. Guy stuff.” Oh, he can think of a bunch of 'guy stuff', but his brain clamps down on his heart before it can burst. There's a saying about hearts stitched to sleeves and all.

“Sounds fun,” Is the lame response that tumbles out of his mouth. Like a landslide. Gods, he's a fool. Still, the feeling that blooms in his chest helps get over that. Together, they stand, close, like nothing happened. Like Percy doesn't find him wrong, now that he knows the nuances that Nico gets up to by himself. It's...fuck, maybe it wasn't as surprising as Nico figured it would be. He does look like a textbook emo, doesn't he? All dark, brooding. Percy probably thinks he does it for attention of something. Goddammit.

“The lake's always pretty this time of year,” The older demigod rambles. He looks carefree, smiling blithely. As if he isn't heartbroken over something that had potential. (Really, Percy should have noticed by now, surely.) “It's always cool, too, so when it gets too hot, I can always go for a dip by myself.” Right. Because being a child of the Big Three is lonely like that. He hums noncommittally.

What happens next is funny. How Percy seems to trip over himself to keep the conversation going. Never had been one for silence, he supposes. It's cute, though. Charming, almost, but most definitely sweet. Percy feels the need to keep him entertained, involved. Thoughtful. More than Nico ever cares to do. Gods, he's a shitty person.

“And, well, y'know. I haven't seen you for the past couple days.” Percy looks annoyed at that, most likely finding himself at fault. Martyr, like that. Nico hums, but ultimately says nothing. There's nothing he can offer. “Kinda been busy,” The guy continues, “Got wrapped up with dragging Leo out of the bunkers.” Sounds about right. Leo's becoming more of a hermit than he is by now, too obsessed with fixing up the Argo II and go out in search of an island-bound goddess. Love's a rocky road the impish boy seems determined to travel. It makes him feel wry. To think that love can do that to people. Wry, because he's seen what love has done to himself. Though, Nico keeps his fears to himself – the fears that Leo will fail, will come back wrecked and wrought.

Nobody needs his doubts.

That's why Nico ignores it.

Suddenly Percy is standing, static from his mouth, a hand extended to him. Nico's heart clenches painfully. He grabs the son of Poseidon's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Knees weak – from the toil and trouble bubbling in his stomach, or from the surprise of standing so quickly – Nico allows himself this. The weightless feeling that sends him reeling, his hand in the warm, gentle hold of Percy's. A thing he's wanted for years.

It's peaceful, in camp. Sure, campers look; they stare, whisper. He can only hope it's nothing controversial. Forget anything nice; with a son of Hades involved, it's never anything pleasant. He just hopes Percy doesn't get roped up in it.

The walk is filled with small comments from his friend, but not much else. When the lake starts appearing through the trees, Nico can only sigh. The water laps softly at the shore, the dock's legs soaked and half-way to rot, but it gives the dock character. The pair sit on the edge: Percy with his legs hanging over, Nico's with knees to his chest. Leaves sway in the breeze; runs ripples over the surface of the water.

It's so pretty.

It's so Percy.

Nico sorta wants to crack a joke, something about the comparison of Percy to summer days. The warmth, the life, the joy. But he has a feeling that Percy has as much a hatred for Shakespeare as Nico does for pop songs. The sun, a blinding starkness on the lake, reflects onto Percy's face. Illuminates him, rejuvenates him into this being of pure gold. His bronzing tan really does his complexion wonders.

And those eyes. _Gods_ , those eyes. Like the shallows of a Mediterranean Sea, impossible shades of green and blue, bright in this moment but quick to darken when conflicted, flaked in gold. The sun, the blue skies, the water at his feet? It's all perfect. Impossibly perfect, and that's only the start of Nico's reasons to love Percy Jackson.

Looking away, he barely catches what the other demigod says. Even then, it's like when his head's underwater. Sounds distorted, interrupted by the current rushing past his ears. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” Of course, he's right. Nico just can't really find a way to appreciate it right now. So he hums; forever noncommittal.

Percy looks to him. His face is awfully soft, sincere, genuine. It's not fair. “Guess maybe the lake's not everyone's thing.” His stomach knots. “No, I love it, I just.” He clears his throat, curling around his knees, “Just kinda...got my head...someplace else. I guess.” The look Percy gives him then is curious, tentative, but all in all resolute. “I'm here,” He echoes, like he had been doing for the most recent days, “If, if you want to talk.” Nico's heard that Cupid kills with both arrows and traps. This must be a trap.

Weakly, he smiles, “I wouldn't want to bother -” Percy leans over, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer, “Nico, it's what friends do. You wouldn't be bothering me at all.” He's too much like his mother in that regard. Selfless: generous, always coming to some sort of undeniable consensus.

For a moment, everything feels okay. This is the closest he'll ever be to this guy, to this heartbreakingly wonderful boy, to the reason his heart aches.

Quietly, he murmurs, “Maybe I'll hold you to that.”

“You better.” Percy squeezes him a little closer.

* * *

 “So how're things with Percy?” Nico shrugs, twiddling with the tomb sitting on Jason's nightstand. It's a terrible thing; a thick-spined book recounting Shakespeare's _The Two Gentlemen Of Verona_. You could say that Nico's engrossed himself in one too many volumes of Jason's Shakespearian literature. A stack of other plays and sonnets by Shakespeare rest just beside the nightstand, full of bookmarks and post-it notes.

“They're okay,” He murmurs. Settling himself onto Jason's white sheets, he pats down the wrinkles he knows Jason hates on the corner. Said blond raises an eyebrow, “Just okay? You guys were joined at the hip a couple days ago, then it looked like he was giving you space about something.” There's that hopeful, pointed lilt to the Roman's voice. Optimistic is a word, but _fantastist_ is more fitting. “Uh -” The son of Hades clears his throat, “Yeah...I guess. We talked about something a little heavy, so -”

“Was it about your pencil sharpener?”

He swallows, “You could say that.”

“And what did Perce do about it?”

“Said he wouldn't leave, I guess.”

“So he distanced himself instead.” It's not a question. He's fucking helpless to defend it, except for the little chat they had this morning, but that's not really much. It wasn't progressive, not by Jason's standards if he knew. Nico shrugs. “Y'know...” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Shakespeare said that it's better to get your feelings out in the open, makes things easier to figure out from there -”

“He also says that everybody can give advice about grief, 'til you're the one crying in a corner, Jay.” It shuts the son of Jupiter up easily enough. Sighing, Nico plays with the bookmark wedged towards the end of _The Two Gentlemen Of Verona_ , unsure about how to continue. He deflates, “I didn't mean to snap. You're just trying to help.” Jason's brotherly hand rests on his shoulder, “I get it. I _am_ pushing a little too hard.” The blond sits beside him, “So, what were you guys talking about today? I saw him whisk you away.” His voice is just teasing now, like friends do, like siblings do, and this time Nico can't fight the smile that itches at his mouth.

“Just...sat and watched the lake, I guess. He likes talking about the water a lot.” Not the mention hugging Nico far too close to be normal, but that's Percy. Amicable, affectionate, affable. Thoughtful, kind, persevering. Unlike him. He chuffs, willing the thought away with a bigger smile, “Told me all about this one time when he was a kid, got his mom all roped up with a restaurant because he was trying to free all the lobsters on display.”

Jason snorts at that, rolling his eyes, “Classic Seaweed Brain.” Yeah. Classic Kelp Head. Fiddling with loose thread in his jeans proves fruitless. The Roman turns to look at him, curious, “How's Reyna doing, anyways?” He raises an eyebrow in turn, “You haven't talked to her?” Jason shakes his head. “She's been busy.” Then he nudges, “So? She good?” Nico plays with the drawstrings of her hoodie (yes, he's still wearing it.) “I...Yeah, she's okay. Keeping the place standing, with Frank, so it's all good. Hazel's doing fine, too.”

His friend perks up, “Oh yeah? What's she doing, these days?” Nico smiles softly, “Trying to dress up what's already pretty.” Jason coos, “Aww.”

Stiffly, he looks at the older demigod, “What?” Jason shakes his head, “You're a really good big brother, Nico. That's all.” He's far from anything _good_ , he knows. Hazel just deals with his rickety personality.

“If you say so.” He's not ever really had much experience with being the older siblings. But he's trying. His little sister seems to appreciate that, at least. Him trying, that is. He tries at everything; a lot of it doesn't really pay off. To think it actually would makes him smirk.

“I do say so.” When he turns to Jason, the son of Jupiter looks every part the proud older brother that Nico wants to punch in the face. The picture perfect older sibling with the perfect grades and best friends with the right people. The parents' favorite child, knowing he'll be successful, that he wont forget about them, that he'll home them when they're too old and dedicate his life to something that will eventually ruin him. Usually office jobs, those good-paying places that drain any form of joy out of a person.

Grimly, Nico thinks about the national average of suicide within financial business. 7.3% back in 2013. Suicide victims were roughly thirty-five to forty-six years old, most of the time. He'd see them stumble blindly with Thanatos, ties a little too tight, hands like dead weights at their sides. Yeugh.

Brushing it off, he looks away from Jason. It's weird to imagine Jason being one of those business shucks in the Underworld. At the same time, it's not too hard to imagine. Had life gone differently, had Jason not been a demigod, he probably would've aced school and lead a boring life after his football career died or something. Huh. “I guess you have poor judgment, then. No wonder you're not Praetor anymore.” Scoffing, Jason shoves him, “No, but I'm promoted to _Pontifex Maximus_ , which is, like, the highest rank. Ever.”

“Semantics,” Nico mutters, waving him off, “Titles, names, whatever.” He's never actually held much seriousness with his own title. _Ghost King_. Son of Death, Prince of the Underworld, Ambassador of Pluto. Never meant much. All just ridiculous names that get you somewhere you don't want to go.

Huh. He flexes his fingers, “We all die in the end.” Quietly, he smirks, mischievous, “And I think it's safe to say that you'll be bowing at _my_ feet then.”

Jason, stupid Jason, has this inexplicably fond expression on his face. Makes him look soft, younger, like a brother looking at his little brother. Nico feels impossibly small in this moment. “I'll be happy to do so.” He's not sure what the son of Jupiter means by that. It's better not to ask.

Conveniently, there's a brief knock at the cabin door. Then, gods, Percy calls, “Hey Jase -” He peers around the door, “You seen Nico?” Eyes lock – it appears everybody is soft and gentle today. Percy smiles, “There you are.” He readies to step in, before pausing, “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” The son of Jupiter snorts, “Does it _look_ like anything important is happening?” Chuckling, Percy steps in and shuffles over to Nico and Jason, “Well, who knows, you could've been bro-bonding.”

Nico raises an eyebrow, “When do I ever do anything related to _bro?_ ” Messily, Percy flops beside him. The bed squeaks, mattress jostling Nico where he sits. To steady himself, he curls his knees to his chest. Jason shoves him _towards Percy_ , laughing, “Hey, we can get you acquainted with the bro lifestyle.” The smug look on the blond's face is unforgivable. Nico ends up colliding with Percy; entire right side lined up with his left. “Right bro?”

It's so casual, how Percy just wraps an arm around his shoulders, “Oh, heck yeah, bro. Sounds doable.” He turns to Nico, grinning that grin, “What do you say, bru-hh-ooh.” He cringes, shaking his head, “Or not.”

Wrinkling his nose, he feels his stomach knot, “The fuck was that?” Percy shrugs, ignoring Jason's laughter, “I can't do it. You're just – no offense – but you're not...bro material.” More kindly, he squeezes Nico, “I like calling you bud better.” Nodding, the guy seems like he's happy with himself. “Yeah...” Silence falls. Both himself and Jason watch Percy with amusement. He doesn't seem to notice.

“A'ight, well.” Percy stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I was wondering if you guys wanted to come to the lake with me?” He fiddles adorably with his shirt, which is also oddly out of character. Percy's never shy about anything. “Since, uh, since it's my cabin's turn to go out and whatever, but...” He clears his throat, throwing a _y'know_ look. Nico gets it, at least. To top it all off, Percy shoots them a pleading look, “And, y'know, well. I'm lonely. And I want friends.” Unwillingly, Nico smiles. He feels his entire body shake with his chuckles.

“I'll come.” He stands, “Just don't make me actually swim with you.” Percy pouts a little bit, but nods, “That's fair.” Then he grins, “I'll teach you to swim, one of these days.” Nico's not so sure about that. He makes a noncommittal sound. “And you, Jay?”

He doesn't like the fiendish smirk on his face. The older demigod pulls it off as contentment, shrugging, “I'd love to, but I've got some book sorting to do. Maybe next time.” Nico fights the urge to throw Jason through the window. Percy shrugs, rocking on his heels, “Okay, bro. I'll see you later?” The blond nods, walking them to the cabin door, “At dinner, if not before then.” Percy strolls out of the cabin, perkier than when he arrived. Clearly pleased. At least that's one upside to this exchange. A happy Percy is a happy Nico.

Still, when Nico glances at Jason, the blond just winks deviously and mouths, “ _Get your man_.” Then he shuts the door abruptly. A couple stray campers flinch.

Percy whistles a jaunty tune. It's a sweet melody, despite Percy's not-the-best whistling skills. “...Not that I mind,” He mutters, “But why were you looking for me? Or was it a if-Jason's-there-Nico's-there sort of thing?” The son of Poseidon shrugs, smiling ruefully as his face heats up. Though, the sun's too bright for it to be all that clear. Maybe Nico's just seeing things. “Well, I did maybe just want to see you.” He hums, “But you saw me this morning.” Percy huffs a little, shaking his head, “But I wanted to see you again.”

Nico can't argue with that. He smiles, rolling his eyes, “Well, soak it up.” Percy cocks his head (stupid, stupid, pretty boy,) “What's that supposed to mean?” His gut twists, heart throbbing painfully. Reluctantly, he sighs, “I'm packing up tomorrow.” _I've overstayed my welcome_. It's just a very obvious thing; from how the campers look at him and silently ask _what are you still doing here?_ To how Chiron shuffles a little whenever Nico walks by, perplexed and expectant that he disappear before the centaur's eyes.

The son of Poseidon frowns, “This soon?”

Nodding, he releases a sigh, “This soon.”

“Oh,” The other demigod murmurs. Dejected, _re_ jected, almost. “Will you be coming back?” He opens his mouth, but closes it. There isn't a definite answer, and he hates it. The silence stretches on too long, enough for Percy to deem it answer enough and his shoulders to slump. “Oh,” He echoes. Miserable, truly, so forlorn and lonely. It's not fair. Percy has friends, why can't he go hang out with them? They love him! What's so special about Nico that Percy can't seem to find in somebody else?

“Well, I have you for now, right?” Nico wants to tell Percy that the guy will have him forever, but refrains. Instead, he nods, “Yeah. And, uh, Iris Messaging is a thing, y'know.” The finally stumble up to the lake. He looks away when Percy starts tugging his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, I know. It's just not -” Ideal.

He shrugs, “Not the same, really.”

Oh he'd swoon right now if his dignity didn't stop him. He'd swoon, cripple to the ground and tell Percy that he has him until their last days. Then he'd die. Game over. Probably without telling Percy anything. Friends. Forever. “I -” He clears his throat, head down. Percy's shirt lands at his feet. “I guess not.” He can't really tell if he's blushing or if it's the sun on his face. He dares to glance up. _Definitely a blush_. Fuck.

Strong back; lean shoulders, hands big enough to wrap around Nico's waist. Fuck. _Fffuck_. ( _don't get a boner, don't get a boner, don't get a boner_ -)

The son of Poseidon turns back, flashing him a dazzling smile, “You just gonna get your feet wet, bud?” _Bud._ Definitely better than _bro_. Nico would love Percy to call him _baby_ , but that's far too much. So he nods, toeing off his shoes and socks, rolling his jeans up to his mid-calf. The pair walk along the dock, somewhat similar to this morning, before Nico sits down and keeps his and Percy's shoes behind him. “Why do you take your clothes off?” He finds himself asking. “Can't you just stay dry?” Maybe that was a little too blunt.

Sitting beside him, Percy shrugs. He shucks off his jeans, balling them up with his shirt, “Well, yeah. But I just...like getting...wet?” He squints a little, scrunching his nose, “That sounds weird. But you get it, yeah? It's just...better.” He nods, wriggling his toes in the water. Leaning back, Percy tilts his head to the sky, “You sure you don't want to swim?” Green eyes shift to him, concerned, “You look kinda warm. Could cool you down some.” He shrugs, playing with his hoodie, “I'm good.”

Percy gives him a dubious look, “At least your hoodie? I -” He stops. There's an audible click of his jaw snapping shut. The rest is a rush, like the force of a waterfall spilling from Percy's mouth: “Shit! Sorry, sorry that's...you don't have to! I – gods, _I'm so fucking stupid –_ I shouldn't have – fuck, okay, you don't have to take it off, it's fine, really, _sorry_ -”

Steeling himself, Nico yanks Reyna's hoodie over his head, bunching it up in his lap. He doesn't let go of it; his knuckles turn white. Once again, Percy's jaw snaps shut. Tension builds.

But Percy looks too fucking good. It's not fair. Looking up at him from the water, face ruddy and mouth parted as he stares up. There's admiration there, adoration, affection, the sort of pride Nico would give to Hazel, what he gives to Reyna ( ~~read: what he gave to Bianca.~~ ) The water churns around him, reacting to the nerves that must be racing through Percy's bloodstream, in rhythm with his pent-up breaths.

They smile.

That's that.

Except the other demigod's smile is like light bouncing off the walls of a sunny room, lighting up his entire face as a bewildered laugh makes its way from his mouth. Nico wants to kiss that mouth, so badly, so very badly. He stops himself from doing so. Folding Reyna's hoodie, he rests it on his shoes. Then he kicks the water mildly, watching it spray into Percy's face. The son of Poseidon smiles wider.

He crowds closer. One of those firm hands resting on his knee, chin resting on that hand. Nico's hands itch to tangle themselves into his hair. “This okay, bud?” Percy says it so gently, so carefully. Nico nods. Nods, because he doesn't really know what else to do other than yank the guy up and kiss him 'til he dies, but that's not a good idea.

Looking upwards, he quietly wonders if maybe somebody is having a little mercy on him. “I'm not fragile, y'know,” It's a total fucking lie, but Percy nods like he doesn't know any better. “I know -” Gushes from his mouth, as his eyes widen a little, “I didn't mean to make it feel like you were, I just.” He shrugs, helpless. It's fucking adorable, his little gestures, and Nico wants to strangle him.

“I just don't want to make you uncomfortable, s'all.”

“Don't worry about me, Perce. It's fine, seriously.”

He looks doubtful, but smiles after a second. Quietly, he chuckles, “I find that hard to believe, but I guess I'm in the same boat.” Nico smirks at him, leaning back on his hands, “It'll get better.” His uncertain, scared little _right?_ Remains behind his teeth, which grit subtly behind his mouth when Percy looks up at him again. So trusting – faithful, loving, all the things Nico has ever wanted – all bottled up into one guy. Nico will forever wonder how one person can hold onto that many hopes and dreams and not come crashing down to earth.

Under his breath, Nico parrots, “It's beautiful, isn't it?” Percy looks behind him, to the sun shimmering on the lake like something out of a movie. The son of Poseidon grins, a childish thing, before turning back to him, “It'd be more beautiful if you were in here with me.” He scoffs, moving to rest his wet foot on the other's shoulder, “Nice try, Perce. Go have fun.” The older demigod hesitates in earnest, eyes flickering from him to the rest of the lake waiting for him. Eventually he relents, after Nico had murmured a soft, “I'll still be here when you surface.” And that must have been significant somehow, because Percy's face broke into something more delicate, more raw and vulnerable before he rocketed away.

Watching Percy swim is like watching the dead rise, for Nico. This thrilling, fulfilling feeling floating in his chest, like cotton shirts and the rightful place for emotions. The pride in watching it happen, from Percy's elegant dives to how bones don't shatter even after all that time below. It's amazing. Bountiful, almost, like stumbling across something precious. Like when he found Hazel, like when he met Reyna, like how he used to look into Bianca's eyes and find pride there. Like looking at Jason, or Leo (finding admiration staring back at him.)

Like looking at Percy and finding home.

Except home isn't something Nico has.

Sighing quietly, he falls back against the dock. The wood feels damp and rotting, but he supposes it's fitting. “Do you ever think that maybe...you're not good enough?” Percy crosses his arms beside him, looking anywhere but his eyes. Nico hums, squinting at the sun, before nodding. “But Shakespeare said that even if you think you suck, you can still achieve great things.” Percy snorts, “I doubt he put it like that.”

“Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.” the son of Poseidon blinks at him for a moment, looking both awed and repulsed. “Man, Willy Shakes has a quote for everything, huh?” Nico purses his lips, holding back a guffaw. Something about Percy's expression tells him he didn't do a good job. “ _Willy Shakes?_ ” Percy nods, “Sure. Whatever you wanna call him.”

He looks a little shy, how he ducks his head, “In all honesty, it was all Greek to me.” Nico wonders if maybe Percy knows more Shakespeare than he lets on, from that reference alone. But when Percy looks up to Nico's smirk, he grins, “Did I get it? Annie likes Shakespeare.” Nico nods, “You get a proverbial golden star.”

“Thanks,” Percy sarcastically drawls. “You're welcome,” Nico snarks back. Green eyes stare down at him, his silhouette blocking out the sun. Nico doesn't remember when Percy moved up there, but he doesn't particularly mind. Not at all really, but if Percy knew why he didn't mind, he'd surely have Riptide at his throat ( _again._ ) “Hey Nico?” Gods, he looks beyond confused, with that befuddled little frown and the furrow between his brows. “Yeah?” Why is he breathless? Why is heart racing so fast, so unruly-like and raging like a caged lion?

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Oh, his heart stops. Pathetically.

“No,” Nico tells him, voice on the precipice of broken hopes and fallen dreams. His mother always told him to tell the truth, and maybe this is one of the few fucking times Nico will ever listen to her. Percy's gaze is quickly growing intense, clearly searching for words as he wets dry lips. Nico wants to touch those lips – with his own, with his fingers, anything, really. But he doesn't. Doesn't, because that's _wrong_ , and Percy's just had a breakup, and anything he asks next Nico will have to say no to.

“Have you ever been in love?” Genuine.

Speak low if you speak of love, Jackson.

“Yes,” Nico tells him, and this time, his voice is barely a breadth above a whisper. “And it makes me fucking miserable.” With that, he rolls from beneath Percy, tugging on his socks and shoes, then his hoodie and stands up. Maybe it's cruel of him, something rotten and wrong and full of ruin. Percy looks lost, like he doesn't know what he did wrong, what he did to deserve the minute amount of Nico's wrath. Gods, he's done nothing.

And maybe that's the problem.

He bites his tongue 'til it bleeds.

“It's nearly lunch, so.” With that lame excuse, Nico walks away from the docks. The sun is cold on his back. The eyes on his back are colder, shocking like ice. Lost, woeful. Nico can feel it roll off Percy in waves. _He's fucked._

* * *

He'll admit, _avoiding_ is the word that comes to mind. Just a little bit. Avoidance never brings anything good, but sometimes, it's all Nico can bring himself to do. So that's why he doesn't see anybody again until after the singalong by the campfire. He'd been stowed away in the crypt that is his cabin, restlessly turning on blue-gray sheets that still have the lingering impression of sweet spring water on them.

The low lights of his cabin had flickered softly, imitating candles but not nearly as nice. There was a calmness to the air that isn't a common frequenter of Nico's cabin, but it wasn't unwelcome. Bright yellow that seeped through the outline of his cabin door turned to ruddy hues of orange and red as the day went on, until it darkened to the point that there was no longer light cutting through the dim. Nico hadn't necessarily _enjoyed_ the solitude; it cleared his head, a little.

There's a gentle knocking at his door, now, the sound of campers retreating to their cabins for the night. “Hey, bud? It's Percy.” He lets out a noise. Too comfortable where he is: deadweight. An unsettling creak grinds through his subconscious, the cabin door opening and a familiar face illuminated in the soft light. The guy chuffs a fond sound, gently closing the door behind him. Percy makes it across the cabin in three easy strides, smoothly lowering into a crouch by Nico's head, “I'm not disturbing you, am I?” So considerate. It's not fair. In response, he murmurs his ascent into the comforter.

Another chuckle. A broad-palmed hand comes to smooth some of his hair away from his face. Percy comes into better view; the light playing shadows on his face, his eyes evergreen even in the gloomiest dour. “I just wanted to check on you before lights out,” He murmurs, as if he needs a reason to come see Nico, “Make sure you're okay and going to rest easy tonight.”

A part of Nico wants to laugh at that. Y'know, for no apparent reason, just to laugh. Maybe at the fact that they both know neither of them are going to sleep more than maybe ten winks shared tonight. Fuck the whole forty. Three is enough for him. That hand in his hair, though. It's mighty compelling.

“C'n y'sleep h'rr t'nt?” Slurs from his mouth. Like a landslide, really, unstoppable. Percy squints – an adorable tilt to his mouth, eyebrows furrowed – before faint clarity washes over him. “You want me to...sleep here? With you?” Nico nods, rolling over, and tugging on Percy's shirt. Fuck, he's tired. So tired. Drained. Exhausted. Percy flops down beside him with ease, hesitant when it comes to touching him. Maybe it's sleep, maybe it's selfishness, but Nico tugs him a little closer. Close enough to feel his pulse. It's racing, dramatically; he ignores it. “Jus' f'r a lil' while.”

They both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Percy, sadly, murmurs, “You're leaving tomorrow.” Nico hums, eyes still barely open. He really wants to whisper _I'll stay if you want me to_ , but he is resolute with his decision and nothing will sway him. He thinks, anyways. “Do you know where you're going?” Nico doesn't answer. Mainly because there isn't an answer.

Percy is smarter than he gives himself credit for, because he lets out a long sigh, “Nico...you don't have to leave. You can stay – we're all here – Leo, Piper, Jason...me.” The guy sounds so sad. It's not fair. “And – and you can visit Hazel, Reyna and Frank all the time, and.” He stops, closing his mouth with a snort through his nose.

He barely manages a shrug, eyelids heavy. There's mild struggle to keep them open, but the lulling comfort of Percy is hard to resist. Something he's wanted – for so long – right here, even if not in the way he wants. Beggars can't be choosers. This is enough. He'd die a happy demigod, just like this; a feat in itself. “I'm here,” He echoes, like a skipping record player. “I am. Seriously. I -” Percy snaps his jaw shut. Nico can feel the guy's pulse spike beneath his skin, frustration rising his blood pressure.

“Why don't you understand that?” A whisper.

“I'll believe it when I see it.” An unfair remark.

The older demigod's arms tense around him, before a long-suffering sigh is released, “Fair.” A knot tangles in his stomach; it hadn't meant to come out like that. Nico's not sure how to fix it, but one thing's certain: he's not so tired anymore.

Percy's hand curls into his hair, soothing knots and tangles, playing with curls. It's a nice feeling; domestic, safe. It's been a while since he's felt this serene. It's like getting drunk after being years sober; dizzying, a rush, flooding his senses. Every intake of breath, every shift in his skeleton, every thump of his pulse. It's all meshed together, almost designed to lure Nico back to Hypnos' influence. He fights it.

“I didn't mean for it to sound like that,” No matter how hard he tries, it still comes out slurred. Still sleepy, still incompetent. Percy chuffs softly. He stays quiet. He seems far away, staring at the ceiling but also seeing through it. After a beat or two, Nico's dry throat croaks, “Do you miss her?” He doesn't know why he asked.

Beneath him, Percy stiffens. Jaw tense, he nods a little, “Yeah. I...Yeah, I miss her.” Nico draws patterns into Percy's shirt. He's digging himself an early grave, he swears it. “Do you miss being with her?” At this, Percy lets out a deliberating noise, “...No.” So quiet. His hold on Nico tightens, a dreadful kind of rawness creeping into the older demigod's voice, “...Is that bad?” He shakes his head.

Why does he make his heart bleed so much?

Bleed for this incredible guy, ache and ache?

Masochism seems to be the only answer, or maybe he's repenting for his sins. Who knows. “I don't think it's bad,” Nico whispers, “It just means you don't love her as much as you did.” He watches Percy's face; how his jaw untenses, the furrow between his brows lessening just the slightest bit.

“Can I -” He hesitates. Those green eyes seem to glow in the dark, almost, the intensity of them nearly luminous. But they're encouraging, unafraid of Nico and the horrible questions he wants to ask. He likes picking people apart that way, likes to learn what makes people tick. The way he does it may not be as kind. “Can I ask how you broke up with her?” _Her_ , because Nico's not sure Percy can handle hearing _Annabeth_ without wanting to curl up and fall apart. But avoidance is toxic.

There's a sharp breath, before Percy shrugs a little. “She didn't love – didn't love me for me...” The older demigod looks resolute. “She liked the idea of me being a...a _hero_ , y'know?” Nico nods when Percy seems to wait for a response. “Was in love with a stable rock she can cry on, tell her fears and insecurities to -” He sits up at this, still holding Nico captive to his chest. Not that Nico minds - “But then she'd just kinda...forgot that it's a two-way street. I went through the same things, and I don't particularly like having to relive it, y'know what I mean? I think she was...I think she was kinda the reason I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stomach food, couldn't close my eyes without panicking.”

Percy glances down at Nico, but doesn't look directly at him. It makes something clench oddly in his stomach. “She was like a reminder. All the time, every day, twenty-four-seven. There was no break.” At this, he starts to curl away a little bit. Maybe he's a reminder for Percy, maybe he's just making the poor guy worse, maybe he's just fucking him up even more -

To his surprise (or maybe not) Percy stops him from inching away. There's a brief smile, that small, _real_ one that drips fondness like seawater between his teeth. It's _genuine_ , and Nico's heart beats a little bit faster. “But not you. You don't...Nico, you're wonderful. Really.” This time, green meets black and nothing seems so wrong about it. “I mean -” Clearing his throat, he tries again, “Yeah, you've been through...hell, I guess. But you don't know how _proud_ I am, bud, you are just...amazing.” But not amazing enough to actually achieve anything.

The marveling expression on the older demigod's face is unnerving. Percy runs a hand through his hair, “You're like magic. I forget that bad things are out there.” It's a quiet admittance, maybe even ashamed, but Nico's heart _soars_. “Well,” Is his tepid perusing, “If _I'm_ magic, then it looks like you speak an infinite deal of nothing.”

Percy's laughter is precarious, like when you wobble on the edge of the curb, arms flailing and the caught-up feeling in your gut even though it's not that far of a fall. “And what's the supposed to mean?” He doesn't give an immediate reply, too lost in how Percy's broad expanse of chest offers the promise of comfort and ease. It's something he's wanted for so long. He's been indulging himself these past few weeks back at camp, and this moment isn't any different. He curls closer to Percy, leans into that hand in his hair, humming with content.

“It means you're an idiot and you should rest.”

“Can I ask you one more question? Just one.”

Who is he to deny this tragic downfall? (Maybe he should lay off on the Shakespeare for a while.) Relenting, Nico allows himself to feel boneless. Only to immediately stiffen when Percy whispers, “Do you have something to love?” What an arbitrary fucking question.

Of all the things Percy could've asked, of all the stars in the sky, of all the worms in the soil, he asked that. An obvious answer would be Hazel, or Reyna, or his dead, dead, dead understanding of mercy, but none of those come out of his mouth. Instead, he remains silent. He wants to joke about how strange it is that Percy is the thing he loves more than anything worldly, but keeps his mouth shut. After a beat, two, three, he sighs. “Yes. And it kills me slowly.”

Nico rolls away from Percy, curling his knees to his chest. Percy is silent beside him. No surprise there, really. He wouldn't know how to respond, had that been an answer he received.

Then there is a light, warm hand on his shoulder, comforting, maybe, in motive. It just makes Nico curl up more. Persistent, Percy's hand remains; a constant. “I'm...” There's a long, suffering sigh, and when the older demigod talks again, his voice is heavy with guilt, “I'm sorry that you have to deal with that, bud.”

Really, Percy should've noticed by now, surely.

And yet? He still seems as oblivious as ever.

Before he can think it over any more, he's being rolled to face Percy again. He feels so small. Everything feels so big, so monolithic and would you look at that, it looks like Nico's waxing poetic. He decides that maybe laying off the Shakespeare is a good idea.

Green eyes pierce into him, puppy-like in their sincerity and eagerness to make things okay. Or maybe that's just Percy, Nico's never been sure. He shrugs, but not enough to dislodge the hand on his shoulder. Nico's willing to indulge himself, just once, under the guise of drowsiness. Though, something tells him that Percy's already picked up on the fact that Nico wont be sleeping any time soon. “It's nothing. Hyperbole.”

Percy squints, but doesn't ask for an explanation. Instead, he just reels Nico in (as if Nico would deny him, ever,) and holds him close like something...like he's wanted. Wanted, loved. Needed. Who knows, maybe it's not that far off from the truth. Shaking his head, he wills the thoughts away. Soaking in the moment is better than trying to make sense of it. The son of Poseidon weaves fingers through his hair, deftly, like he's done it for years now. In a way, he has. Except it wasn't the tangles in Nico's hair he was weaving through, if that makes any sense.

Suddenly all the energy is drained from him. He doesn't want to move, to listen, to see. Hypnos looks to be at a conflict. One minute, Nico is wide awake with sleep at the back of his mind, the next minute, he wants to do nothing but curl up like a cat in the sun. In all honesty, Nico wants to do neither. His struggle is soothed by the gentle hum Percy emits, “You okay? You look _really_ tired.” Patronizing, but not quite.

Nico's not sure whether to perceive it as actual concern or not. That doesn't stop him from seeping up the warmth from Percy, eyebrows furrowed in attempts to keep up his hard exterior. It doesn't look like it's working.

The son of Poseidon humors him, settling down beside him and continuing to draw circles into his scalp. It's pleasant, always has been and probably will be forevermore. That is, if anybody will ever be willing to be intimate like this. The chances are low. He frowns a little.

Shushing him kindly, Percy pulls him closer and hugs him tight. It's...it's a strange thing, but something Nico has come to love all the more. It's not fair, really. Not fair at all, how Percy gets to do this, gets to do these things and be unaware of how it affects him like this. ( ~~Unbeknownst to Nico, Percy's stomach is doing somersaults.~~ )

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Is a hurt, muffled plea, of desperation and of things Nico can't place. “Ditto,” Slips out of his mouth. This meaningless, stupid phrase, but it means _so much_. So fucking much. Percy stiffens around him; Nico hears his heart stutter. Funny, how the heart expresses itself. Once again, that thing about hearts and sleeves and the stupid, bare, honest truth. Raw. Raw. Percy sighs, relaxing once again. He drinks up that pulse like a cactus absorbs water.

“Sleep.” A soft demand. Not an offensive order, an oppressive command that Nico fall to his knees and serve an unholy, tarnished deity, but a soft demand. A demand that Nico lay his head on that broad chest, close his eyes to the symphonies that come from that worn, heavy heart, that Nico bare himself vulnerable to his one and only weakness. That Nico stab his own Achilles Heel. Nico's never stepped down from a challenge before.

And, by gods, this was a challenge if ever he's seen one.

When he looks up, Percy's gaze is an indisputable dare.

So he does, boneless, defeated but in the good way that warms his core. Percy hums, pleased. The silence isn't as suffocating as it was earlier. His eyes grow heavy, slipping closed to the beam of moonlight that streams through his only window.

* * *

Damp. Cramped, confining, his breath coming out shorter and more panicked. He shifts the tiniest bit, and seeds scatter across the ceramic bottom of...of the jar. Fuck. His curled position leads to numbness, an inability to tell whether it's the circulation or his legs themselves that have been cut off. His vision keeps blurring, doubling, quadrupling. Eyelashes are clumped together, his mouth is so dry, and there's this underlying _pulse_ of something alive, all around him. The pulse isn't his own, but it's a steady, even thing that rings in his ears worse than the bombshells from back home. Tartarus itself.

He's fucked. So pitifully fucked, and there are voices that cackle and rattle his container. His panting must sound amusing to his captors. Weak, frail, rattling like a chest infection or like those broken children toys. And that's, essentially, what he is, right? A toy. Or a child. Both, maybe. A scared little child. Unfortunately, mortality isn't a strong hang he can hold onto.

He wants to vomit. He probably has once already, but he doesn't remember much. It comes in phases, this cruel consciousness, and each period only lasts so long. Each time he wakes, he's more rotten than he was prior, something is even worse than the time before and each time he feels parts of himself waste away. His pulse skyrockets, his need to get out of this damn place gnawing at him like a ravenous creature in his chest.

His stomach twists, churns, groans and screams at him for _more_ that he doesn't have. Eyes burn, body aches, his mind is on one person and him only.

Breathing is a chore that he shouldn't find hard to do. The shadows lick at him – they're not as comforting as they usually are. They feel sharp, prodding meanly at him, prying, pinching, trying to tear his skin away. The back of his neck prickles, his eyes threaten to slip shut again. Gods, he doesn't want to fall back into a comatose state; he hates it, this waking, sleeping world he's in. simultaneously, sleep sounds better than being away. He curls in more on himself.

“Nico?”

The ceramic scrapes under his boots. Fuck, he's so weak though, he couldn't break out even if he wanted to. Powerless. _Fuck_. His throat burns with every inhale, his blood rocketing but sluggish all the same. Each breath is like slush in his lungs. Sweat makes his hair cling to his forehead, his ratty jacket sticking to his neck. Fuck.

“Nico, c'mon.”

Fuck. He's going to vomit, or something, with how his stomach keeps clenching. It's painful, definitely a near-gnawing now. How long has he been in here? Just listening to the whispers, the mocking. Feeling the shadows peck at his hands like they're crows and he's roadkill. A croak wheezes past his teeth. He tries not to think about how his tongue has been _peeling_ since he's been in here. Well, everything's been peeling, he supposes. It's so hot down here – humid and dry at the same time, and well, that has a very real effect on the body.

Something starts tangling up around him. It coils messily, rubs up against his legs, traps his wrist. No! No, no, no, this can't be happening. His eyes are closed now, too heavy to keep open. He tries to squirm some more, weakly kicking it away whilst his breaths come out in rasps.

Suddenly his world is tipped – upwards? Upwards, he supposes, and when he cracks his eyes open, Percy is there. _Percy_ , the guy he's been wishing for since he got trapped in this damn jar. Except. He's not in a jar. Gulping air like a man in a desert, Nico looks around. Percy's hands are firmly on him, holding him up and away from the tangled mess of bedsheets. For long moments, Nico just pants into the dark. The son of Poseidon's presence is overwhelming, yet underwhelming. Overwhelming maybe due to proximity, underwhelming because...well, Nico was sorta expecting it. Doesn't make him any less grateful, of course, just. Gods, Nico loves this fucking idiot.

“Nico?” Percy's eyes are wide, startled as if channeling all of Nico's distress. Simmering, Nico runs a hand through his hair. Then he drops it onto the firm hand on his shoulder. “Yeah?” It comes out raspy.

“You good?”

“Mhm. Yo -”

His world topples again, pleasantly. A warm embrace that should be suffocating makes his heart stutter in contrite. Percy's breath is in his hair, strong pulse against his ear. _Home_ rings viciously in his heart, but his head says _trap_. And Shakespeare likes to say that being 'true to thine own self' is the most important thing of all, but he doesn't really want to think through either of those things right now. So he relents, sinking into Percy's hold. It comes naturally, as if the action was written in the stars.

“You scared me,” Percy admits. A secret between the two of them, muffled into his hair. (What Nico doesn't know is that Percy likes to think that if it's whispered into Nico's hair, it's equivalent to whispering it to a void, so in all: it's between them and them only.) “I didn't mean to,” Is Nico's subdued response.

The older demigod shivers – Nico can feel it – hold tightening just the slightest bit. Then he hisses a curse, and releases Nico all together, “You probably don't want to be caged up right now, huh? Uh...Nightmare and – and all.” Nico furrows his eyebrows, “How did you know?” Percy shrugs, shuffling a little further away from him. There's a decent gap between them, but it feels colossal. Like a ravine, a valley. “You kept...curling up. Like you were cramped.” Right.

A shuddering sigh grates through his teeth. Then, uncertain, Nico swallows: “Can...can you come back? I...it just. I mean -” Percy is back at his side in a blur, chuckling like he just got winded. “Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

And, y'know, that's enough. That's...that's _it_ , that's all he needs. Percy at his side, and it's more than all the things he could wish up on the spot. The breaths that fill his lungs now feel like crisp air. Even, like steady tides, like the rush of ocean air against the bow of a boat, even. Even breaths.

Sometimes, Nico wonders what he did to deserve this. This demigod life, with Death as his father, to lose his only family. To be stripped of anything he could've made for himself, to be stuck with these gross desires for something evidently not female. What did he do to be laden with Cupid's ire, Aphrodite's contempt? What did he do to earn all this hate, that isn't even for him to begin with?

Sometimes, Nico wonders what he did to deserve this. A little sister that sees stars in his flesh and idolizes him as if he himself has a pedestal to stand on. An older sister that holds more respect for him than he could ever dream of receiving, a level of respect he can give wholly in return and not regret. This amazing guy that laughs like somebody drunken on moonshine, has a heart worth something more than gold and somebody Nico can confide in? What did he do to deserve this? It must've been something more than godhood, surely.

He smiles to himself. “You're a good person,” He whispers, and he's not sure if it's for himself or Percy. No, most definitely for Percy. Nico's not in the business of lying to himself, and to try and convince himself of such a big a lie as that is fucking preposterous. “So are you,” Is the wistful reply. Nico finds it hard to believe.

“Debatable.”

“Not really.”

Another deep sigh. This one not as pained, but equally as resigned. “Sleep, yeah? It's dark outside.” As if that's any testament to the idea that Nico should feel tired. He huffs anyways, feeling that humoring the son of Poseidon is the only option he has left. Even if going back to sleep means more nightmares. At the mere thought, his entire body goes rigid. Beside him, Percy coos softly.

That really endearing, soft noise he makes. The one that the guy doesn't appear conscious of making. It should anger Nico, really. Belittlement, or embarrassing at the very least. Still, he can't find himself minding all too much. “You okay, bud?” He nods, uneasily reclining into the pillows, “...I will be.” Nodding, Percy lies next to him. A hand just below his ribs, the other playing with his hair, “Okay.” Nico yawns, “Okay.” Another soft noise. His eyelids aren't that heavy, but he still finds himself unable to open them once they shut.

(This means he can't see Percy marveling at him. Something to be revered, to be appreciated. A somebody standing for a something. In the end, Percy thinks that is all he can ask for.) “We still have a couple hours before breakfast -” He chuckles in between, staring out the sole window in the cabin. Just between Nico and Hazel's beds, the moonlight filters through the thick slats, shines in Percy's eyes like something godly- “I'd soak it up before Jason comes hammering on the door.”

Nico nods drowsily at that. He curls into Percy like a dog would something soft, and doesn't move after that. Above him, Percy smiles this really tender, raw smile. It's like when you find something that's just so...so pretty. So pretty and sweet and above all just the most _precious_ thing ever. It's a lot like that.

But it's also very much like finding a part of yourself.

A part of yourself you didn't even know was missing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUOTES REFERENCED, because I know I wasn't very clear:
> 
>   * **Parting is such sweet sorrow** (Romeo and Juliet) - 'Love is such sweet sorrow and whatever'  
>  // Actually talks about how our girl Juliet, whilst hating to see Romeo leave, will look forward to seeing him again (and if i remember correctly it's fucking ironic because, like, Romeo has to like leave for somewhere someplace or exile??)
>   * **Wear your heart on your sleeve** (Othello) - 'There's a saying about hearts stitched to sleeves and all'  
>  //We all know what this means, right? All that displaying true emotions and shit. That angsty, poetic shit.
>   * **The course of true love never did run smooth** (A Midsummer Night's Dream) - 'Love's a rocky road the impish boy seems determined to travel'  
>  //This one makes enough sense without explanation, I hope? Y'know, not only referencing Leo going after Calypso, but the whole  _major Percico mess_ that is the main focus of this fic? Right? 
>   * **Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble** (Macbeth) - 'from the toil and trouble bubbling in his stomach'  
>  //get it, cus like, reference to nerves and shit despite actually matching up with what the quote means because I suck? yeah, eat it. I didn't match up an obscure reference to the quote's definition. Fuck you. (also, the witches were asking for double the toil and trouble/more hardships and annoyances and shit.)
>   * **Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?** (Sonnet 18) - 'Nico sorta wants to crack a joke, something about the comparison of Percy to summer days'  
>  //Hey hey, not only this part about comparing Percy to something pleasant and more temperate ('the perfect temperature', according to Willy Shakes,) but also later on in the sonnet when he talks about summer's quick-approaching end (ie; Nico leaving camp soon ~~i think because I'm not fucking consistent and I don't remember if I mentioned that or not.~~ ) It's all melancholy bittersweet bullshit.
>   * **Some Cupid kills with arrows, others with traps** (Much Ado About Nothing) - 'Nico's heard that Cupid kills with both arrows and traps'  
>  //Okay so I couldn't be fucking bothered to figure out what the everloving fuck this one means, but I took it into literal terms? Y'know, Cupid fucks you over with love arrows and shit (which Neeks already deals with,) so in referenced to the idea of Nico feeling like he's pushing boundaries/overstaying his welcome/Percy's only offering an ear to be nice, he feels like Percy's kindness is some sort of sick trap because Aphrodite and Cupid have it out for his ass. Also can be interpreted in other ways, within context, but what fucking ever I'm tired. 
>   * **They do not love that do not show their love** (The Two Gentlemen of Verona) - “Shakespeare said that it's better to get your feelings out in the open, makes things easier to figure out from there -”  
>  //Original quote means: if you love someone, show it to them so they know your true feelings.Jason thinks it makes more sense for Nico to just get his feelings out in the open, so that there's less tension between them, because he thinks (read: knows) there is a chance that Percy may or may not requite those feelings without knowing it, but Nico's a little stressy boy.
>   * **Everyone can master a grief but he that has it**  (Much Ado About Noting) - “He also says that everybody can give advice about grief, 'til you're the one crying in a corner, Jay.”  
>  //Original quote chalked up basically says: it's pretty easy to tell someone how to deal with grief until you are the one who's grieving. So like Jason doesn't really understand to what extent Nico's feelings run (haha wait for the quote later 'bout love at first sight you can sigh angrily then don't worry) for Percy, and also all the self hate and shit that comes with it because whilst he's coming to terms with there being more acceptance about homosexuality, Nico's still worried. Rightfully so, considering around the thirties, gays (and other minorities) were getting fucking gassed to death and looked down upon and shit. So, reasonably, Nico would be pretty fucking scared if Percy found out (since it all kinda started as hero-worship and developed from there.) Jason's basically telling Nico to get his shit together without understanding the roots of Nico's anxieties (fully.) 
>   * **"Et tu, Brute?"** (Julius Caesar) - "And you, Jay?"  
>  //"And you, Brutus?" Caesar said this to his 'friend', Brutus, who played a role in the stabbing of Ceasar. So, effectively, Jason is playing a role in Nico's oncoming 'demise'.
> 

> 
> FUCK SHAKESPEARE

**Author's Note:**

> Annabeth isn't mentioned much because Percy, whilst sad about the break up, is trying to distract himself and utilizing his free time to try and mend bonds with our good boy Nico. Everybody's tired, i may be projecting a little, but whatever.
> 
> The thing Nico was making Percy do is called 'grounding'. Where you point out things about your surroundings, to help recognize where you are and make you feel safer (i think.) So, there are different variations of it, but that was the version i'm most familiar with, so I used that one. to clear stuff up, Percy had a PANIC ATTACK. Whilst I didn't portray it how panic attacks usually go (because I suck and wanted some Percabeth Angst in there,) it was still a panic attack in how it was sudden, unprovoked and unpredictable (thank you google.) 
> 
> uhhh hoped that cleared shit up, if I'm wrong, let me know.


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